The Enemy Within
by GloriaNewt
Summary: Trouble is brewing within Cackles Academy, an ominous presence which threatens to trigger a chain of destructive events...  Sequel to You Can Run, But You Can't Hide
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Just a little opening idea for a new fic that I'm hoping to continue with as a little distraction from my rather hectic schedule at the moment! I would be interested to hear what you think so far. Reviews always appreciated!**

"Gorgonzola"

Amelia Cackle leant forward and whispered the secret password that opened the secret panel in the wall of her office and smiled in relief at the sight of the cobweb-ridden book that rested snugly in its hidden alcove. The manuscript that contained the highly restricted spells and incantations of witchcraft, the banned volume which she had incarcerated in its hiding place for many years- too valuable to destroy, too dangerous to unleash, it lay suspended in a perfect limbo, neutralised and apparently harmless.

Had she known that she was protectively guarding a meaningless replica that had been cunningly substituted by a highly determined thief beneath her nose that very morning, she would have been far more concerned. Instead, she closed the compartment with a snap, assured in her mind that the hidden treasure was indeed safe as she walked purposefully out of the room to take her next class, oblivious to the uncomfortable truth that was about to bring destructive consequences to the academy.

The Mythiocopia, the ancient volume containing the darkest of the magical arts was missing.

**xxx**

A cauldron was frothing manically in its solitary location in the middle of the concealed woodland grove, spitting noxious droplets of caustic liquid high into the calm stillness of the inky night. At the precise hour, a witch stepped forward from the shadows, her features concealed by a heavy black hood which draped secretively over her hidden face which was contorted with sheer concentration. She reached inside her robes, carefully extracting a glass vial and uncorking it, allowing the small lock of dark hair to float lazily through the still air in an ever decreasing spiral, colliding with the raging surface of the concoction at the precise moment that the scudding clouds parted to reveal the illuminating glow of the majestic full moon which sat dominantly in the night sky.

The witch fell reverently to her knees, touching her forehead to the leaf-strewn floor, breathing in the rich earthy scent of the mouldering leaves, her senses magnified by the adrenaline that was coursing anxiously through her veins, "Have I done well, Mistress?" she whispered quietly, her heart thudding in suspense. She knew the penalty that would await her if she had failed; bracing herself for the searing pain that would tear mercilessly through her like a dagger if she had displeased her invisible commander.

"You have…" the quiet voice murmured reassuringly in her ear in tones that were as sweet and reassuring as the purest orange-blossom honey, the warmth of the voice bathing her in a golden ray of light, the tension falling away to nothingness as she relaxed beneath the ethereal tones that echoed enthrallingly within her mind.

"You shall be rewarded..." the voice trailed away and the witch gasped in bliss as the ecstasy of the purest of dark magic blossomed within her soul, feeding upon the receding morsels of purity and goodness that had so far survived the presence of the unseen Mistress, replacing them with the tainted, bitter poison, darkening her soul beneath the teeming weight of the black magic that danced frenziedly at her slender fingers. Straightening up determinedly from her prostrate stance, she felt the dark power surge within her, building like a tornado in its crushing intensity as she threw her head back in delirious triumph, panting slightly as angry scarlet streams of pure power burst forth from her outstretched finger tips, fighting to maintain her consciousness as her vision began break up into fuzzy pixels, shrill, high-pitched harmonics infiltrating her hearing as she sank to her knees, blinding streams of light still spiralling from her trembling form, beads of sweat building upon her brow and trickling slowly down her clammy face as she strove to complete the powerful curse that she was weaving, her muscles shuddering and screaming in protest as every iota of her being was focused upon completing the deadly spell. Finally, she fell forwards, her breath escaping with a soft sigh as she fainted, exhausted from the draining experience that had sapped every ounce of strength from her body, allowing the blissful caress of sleep to overtake her fatigued mind and tumble into the depths of oblivion. The spell was complete at last.

**xxx**

Far away in the safe confines of the castle, the damned recipient of the curse slept soundly on, blissfully unaware of the destructive enchantment that had already begun its vicious work…

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Well, hello again! I have finally decided that this fic is to be the sequel to the first fic that I wrote: "You Can Run, But You Can't Hide", so if there are a few references that don't seem fully explained in this next chapter, I promise you that they are mentioned in the other fic! **

**A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, plus an extra little mention for LongVodka for playing ping pong over names with me!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not (unfortunately) own any of Jill Murphy's wonderful characters**

**Reviews always make my day!**

"_I have need of your eyes…"_

The piercing whisper awoke her in the night, the familiar tones of the Mistress seeping into her dreams, dragging her harshly back through the many layers of sleep, calling her to wake and obey the unbreakable demands.

"_Take me to her…" _

The witch sat bolt upright in her bed, snapping to attention like a soldier on parade, her eyes wide and glassy at the presence of her commander, "I am yours, to command," she replied in the customary flat monotone, any option for independent thought long removed beneath the crushing control of the voice following the disastrous liaison with the unseen spirit. She rose from her bed, ignoring her cosy dressing gown, padding softly along the darkened corridors at a purposeful pace, her bare feet unflinching at the contact with the freezing flagstones, her senses numbed to leave only necessary stimuli that would relay the required information to the invincible superior within. She paused outside the heavy oak door, cautiously pushing it open to avoid the tell-tale squeak of rusty hinges that would awaken the occupant easily from her light sleep, opening the door inch by inch to reveal the sleeping form of a tall, elegant woman, her bony chest rising and falling in a fitful sleep, a long tendril of ebony hair cast lazily across the perfect porcelain complexion, eyes fluttering wildly behind dark lashes, a faint sheen of perspiration glistening upon her cool brow being the only indicator of anything unusual taking place. She moaned lightly in her sleep and rolled over uncomfortably as the fever began to rise, a sharp, throbbing pain erupting within her temples like she was being stabbed by a knife as the curse wound its way deep into her heart, twisting and sealing its poison within the steadily thumping organ, the constant, ostinato lifebeat fluttering and struggling against the influx of the curse.

"_Perfect…"_

The voice mused within her head, permitting a humourless chuckle to echo around the insides of the possessed mind. The unconscious form emitted another shuddering sigh and then lay contentedly sleeping, oblivious to the events which had just taken place.

Xxx

**Two weeks earlier…**

Mildred Hubble smiled as she descended gracefully from the grey skies over Cackles Academy, feeling the familiar sense of contentment at seeing the familiar towers stretching into the sky, but the usual nagging twinge of uncertainty and nervousness, surely she would be able to rid herself of the "Worst Witch" label this year? She adjusted course slightly, her school bag swaying gently in the breeze, a faint yowling coming from the cat basket that was lodged securely on the bundle of twigs behind her reminding her that Tabby, despite his increased flying experience was still petrified of the giddying heights required by broomstick flying and usually spent the majority of the long flight from her home curled up into a tight ball, his eyes scrunched shut tightly, claws sunk into the wickerwork of the basket in a bid to establish some sort of stability. She flew lower in a descending spiral, concentrating hard upon not falling from the skies in a screaming wreck, but on landing with the dignity associated with a third year witch, gently easing her unsteady craft down to the awaiting cobbles and crowds of young witches ready to commence the new term at Cackles Academy. She let out the breath which she had been holding with a sigh of relief as her hob-nailed boots met with the solid ground as she touched down lightly, avoiding her usual brand of calamitous return to the site of magical education.

"Millie!"

Before she could breathe or gain any real perception of her surroundings, Mildred was enveloped in a tight hug from her friends, the usual blur of chatter and recounted stories being exchanged at a rapid pace as the reunited witches greeted each other after the eight weeks of separation. Ruby was proudly displaying the latest addition to her electrical collection, tinny sounding music emanating from the earphones placed in her ears, a constant rhythmic beat drumming away as she stood chatting happily to Jadu who was running her fingers through her intricately braided hair standing next to Enid who was pulling back loose strands of hair to reveal…

"You've got pierced ears!" whispered Mildred excitedly, all too aware that HB may well materialise from behind them and confiscate the earrings with the customary puffification spell. Her relationship with the strict deputy headmistress may have radically changed following the dramatic events of last term, a friendship and understanding beginning to form between the two witches, but nothing would change HB's stance on the possession of any contraband items. For all she may have changed away from the classroom, she still insisted upon portraying the character of the rigid disciplinarian in front of the school, maintaining her eternal mantra of "standards, standards, standards" if only to instil respect and obedience within the girls to ensure that they achieved their best in their time at the academy.

"Extreme!" the others clustered around Enid, staring in a mixture of awe and surprise at the gold studs which were glittering in the autumnal sunshine. Mildred smiled along, wishing that she could have chosen to confide in one of her friends over the events of the past year, but had bitten back any explanations despite her friends questioning over her sudden disappearance for the fortnight following the schools inspection. She could hardly say that she had faced death in protecting Constance Hardbroom and fought against a witch channelling the black powers of Harriet Hogweed, the greatest dark sorceress who had ever lived. She had spent the majority of the fortnight in a state of permanent exhaustion, her body recovering from the strenuous exertion of having cheated death and lived. She could tell that Maud and Enid in particular had been upset at the fact that she was obviously hiding something from them, but had chosen to keep the tale to herself. Merely comprehending the staggering revelations revealed to her on that day was draining enough without being forced to recount the entire tale over and over again. Miss Hardbroom knew, and that was enough for the time being.

"Good to see you Millie," smiled Maud, hugging her best friend tightly, "Long time no see!"

"You too Maud," said Mildred, pleased to hear the note of forgiveness in Maud's voice. She had wanted to meet up with Mildred during the holidays, but following the need to recuperate after her ordeal, Mildred had politely declined the suggestion, her drained reserves restricting her mainly to bedrest for the first five weeks of holiday, her weakness blamed upon a particularly vicious dose of flu to appease her concerned family, a handwritten letter from Miss Hardbroom bearing testament to the white lie that had been carefully formulated by the two of them.

Before another word could be exchanged, a familiar voice echoed through the courtyard, the authoritative tones announcing the arrival of the formidable deputy head, Miss Constance Hardbroom who appeared with her arms folded tightly across her bony chest, her long ebony hair scraped back tightly into her trademark bun, her porcelain skin creating a stark contrast with her velvety black dress, the usual set of keys jangling merrily on a chain around her narrow waist.

"Brooms in the broomshed girls!" her voice cleaved effortlessly through the idle chatter, a hushed silence falling immediately, "And take your cases up to your rooms and unpack, there is to be an assembly in an hour's time which you are all expected to attend."

She dematerialised promptly, leaving Enid to victoriously smile at her earrings going undiscovered.

"Got away with it!" she punched the air in triumph, grinning at her friends disbelieving looks.

"I wouldn't agree with that statement for one moment, Enid Nightshade…" the sarcastic tones echoed from where Miss Hardbroom had last been seen. A bolt of green light appeared from nowhere, puffifying the earrings into thin air, abruptly wiping the smile off the young girl's face.

"Now, to your rooms before I give you 500 lines each "I will not loiter in inappropriate places," she snapped tersely.

The girls exchanged knowing glances and set off towards the main door, laden with their many bags and cases.

"Just one moment, Mildred Hubble…" HB's voice rang out clearly, stopping the tall girl in her tracks. "It has been decided that you are to be taking extra potions classes this year to improve your general dismal standards if you are to achieve your Witches Higher Certificate, please kindly report to the potions lab this evening for your first lesson…"

"Yes Miss Hardbroom," acknowledged Mildred, secretly pleased at the prospect of spending time with the witch who had until recently been the bane of her existence.

"Nice to see you again, Mildred," the familiar voice of the deputy head muttered the quiet greeting in her ear as she passed, inaudible to the others, "We have a lot to discuss..."

"Bad luck Millie! Extra potions!" Enid smiled sympathetically at her friend. Mildred's lack of prowess in potions was somewhat legendary following the near destruction of the laboratory in her second year exams. Explosions and detonations were a frequent addition to lessons including the accident-prone witch.

The girls continued into the building until they found their path blocked by a familiar witch, her arms folded smugly across her chest, a condescending look of patronisation already present upon her sharp features, viewing her year mates like a particularly bad smell beneath her upturned nose.

"What's the matter Hubble Bubble?" she jibed, her loyal henchman Drusilla standing by her side, "Can't cope with ordinary classes? In need of even more help than you already get?

"Leave her alone Ethel!" protested Ruby and Jadu, trying to walk past the obstruction.

"Tell me," sneered Ethel, "how much are your parents paying in bribery to Miss Cackle to allow their talentless little failure to skip around playing at being a witch when she really doesn't have enough magical ability in her little finger to be compared to her fellow yearmates from magical families?"

Mildred had tried desperately not to allow herself to be riled by the cruel taunts, but the final barbed insult was enough for her to push forwards and attempt to grab Ethel by the collar, however, before she could make contact, her hand was rebuffed magically.

"Stop it! Stop it at once!" came the unfamiliar voice from outside Miss Cackle's office. A young woman was standing there, her casting fingers outstretched confidently, a look of serious concentration present upon her elfin face, her blonde hair cut into a neat pixie cut which accentuated her flawless bone-structure. She was fairylike in her stature, short, shorter than Mildred and most of her friends, slender, almost waif-like, but dancing with vibrant magical intensity, her blue eyes flashing fiercely as she surveyed the two miscreants in front of her.

"Would an explanation be too much to ask for?" she questioned lightly, but with an underlying thread of authority.

Ethel Hallow cast a contemptuous look at Mildred before clearing her throat and adopting the wounded tones of the victim. "It was Mildred Hubble, miss. She just attacked me with no reason and tried to pin me up against a wall!"

Drusilla nodded frantically, "Its true!" she agreed, "It's all Mildred's fault!"

Mildred opened her mouth to protest, but the blonde haired witch had got there first.

"If there is one thing that I cannot stand," she began, an incensed glint appearing in her blue eyes, "It is a liar…"

"But-" Ethel attempted to interject, many threats and intimidations surrounding her father's position as Chair of the Board of Governors dying on her lips as she met the angry gaze of the stranger.

"I don't think that insulting a witch's background or abilities is exactly text-book behaviour, young lady," she replied, her voice remaining completely level, but taking on a steely edge that stopped even Ethel Hallow in her tracks, "Regardless of one's parental connections…"

She stepped forward, her lack of height in relation to the witch she was reprimanding not causing her to experience any feelings of intimidation as she planted her hands upon her slender hips.

"Detention, I think…" she began silkily, "For you and your loyal friend, 1000 lines apiece "I will not belittle or discriminate against my fellow peers in any circumstances" to be handed into me by lunchtime tomorrow please, or I shall double the amount required!"

Drusilla opened her mouth to protest, but Ethel grabbed her by the wrist and stormed off with her nose in the air, threating under her breath that "Miss Cackle will hear of this…"

"Thank you," breathed Mildred in relief, "It's always my word against hers..." she stared sadly after the retreating figure of her arch-enemy.

The elfin-like witch smiled, a wistful ghost of a grimace passing across her elfin features as she kindly reached forward and patted her gently on the arm, "I know what it's like to be misunderstood..." she whispered before walking off smartly around the corridor carrying an air of confidence about her petite frame that was only usually associated with the majestic presence of HB.

"Who was that?" asked Enid, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Don't know," shrugged Maud non-committedly, "but we've got assembly in half an hour, I'm sure it will be sorted out then, come on, let's go and unpack before HB gives us all 1000 lines before term has even properly begun…"

Xxx

"Well, Miss Nightdew," beamed Amelia Cackle, surveying the trainee teacher over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses as she caringly straightened the new arrivals robes as the assorted members of staff assumed their usual procession outside the assembly hall, "I hope you will be very happy here at Cackles Academy and take the chance to pass your final teaching assessment with flying colours!"

Lina Nightdew grinned, her features lighting up with joy as she filed onto the platform in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff, surveying the assembled student body with a critical eye, determined to prove herself and her abilities from the very first moments of her placement.

Following the demise of Hecketty Broomhead, Amelia Cackle had been approached by the Witches Guild to take a considerable promotion within the organisation, taking on the management of Of Witch as well as juggling her duties as headmistress of the school, a weighty extra commitment which had led her to propose the appointment of a temporary teaching assistant to cover spells classes when she would be unable to manage her usual timetable due to the influx of extra paperwork, the only real downside of the substantial increase in salary which she had inherited along with the influential post.

Lina had impressed instantly when she had attended the interview, her mature approach and vast knowledge of complex enchantments had captivated even the notoriously hard-to-please Constance, her quietly confident manner and flawless presentation making it easy to forget her tender age as she demonstrated a genuine magical flair and the perfect temperament for a teacher, leaving the nervous, stammering competitors with barely half the magical capacity between them of the powerful young woman to pale into insignificance.

The young woman stood patiently alongside her fellow members of staff, determined to make to most of her new start, to move on from the events of her past and bury the skeletons firmly in her closet, resolving to use, perhaps even exploit this opportunity to the furthest extents that she could possibly manage…


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Huge thanks to all the lovely people who have left such kind reviews and PM's so far, here is the next chapter- this is set back in the same timescale as the opening chapter, about two weeks into term.**

**Please review and make my day!**

The clock in the belltower was striking seven, a clear peal ringing out into the still air, the majestic architecture of the ancient castle taking on a dark silhouette against the apricot-stained sky of the dusky evening, bats beginning to awaken and fly from their daytime perches into the darkening blackness of the night as Mildred Hubble traipsed along the corridor to the Potions laboratory, looking for all her worth like a dejected pupil about to undergo the torture of an hours extra potions classes. She raised her hand to the door and knocked smartly.

"Enter…" The authoritative tones rang out clearly.

She carefully entered the room, glancing back over her shoulder at her disappearing group of friends.

"Ah, Mildred." Miss Hardbroom looked up from the stack of exercise books that she was marking with her usual rapid efficiency and pointed directly at the cauldron set up in front of her with a sharply extended index finger, an orange flame dancing merrily at its base. "Intermediate Potions, Page 473, Levitation Potions, please read the theory and complete the practical task." Her tone was brisk and business-like, purposely exhibiting none of the recent warmth or friendliness that had developed between the two of them.

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Mildred replied meekly, twisting her plait nervously between her fingers as she stepped forwards to her awaiting cauldron.

Constance stood up and walked briskly to the back of the classroom, closing the ajar door behind her, her keys jangling noisily at her waist.

"And remember, one mistake and I shall place you in detention for the rest of the week!" she snapped brusquely, purely for the benefit of anyone who may be loitering and listening outside as she listened carefully to the silence, satisfying herself that there was nobody within earshot as she turned to the awaiting pupil with a gentle smile, quite unlike the fearsome character which she portrayed normally, shedding the assumed mask of the strict, dictatorial authoritarian, assuming a more relaxed demeanour as she settled down onto the awaiting wooden stool to supervise her favourite lesson of the week, delighting in the steady improvement that Mildred was making, at last showing her merits. She had to concede that approaching Mildred's classes with a more gentle approach was having the desired effect, the girl able to think clearly and remaining unflustered, each success building her barely existent belief in her own abilities.

"Now then, Mildred" she encouraged gently as she surveyed the busily working student, a faint glow of pride welling within her as she watched the young girl feverishly stirring her potion, biting her lip in determination to achieve the desired result, "Just be careful with those spiders eggs, you don't want too many, otherwise the recipient of the potion may find themselves stranded upon the ceiling for a few hours!" she placed a cool, restraining had upon Mildred's wrist to prevent the addition of any more of the volatile substance. "That's better," she encouraged gently, allowing a rare smile of approval to dawn upon her dark lips at the sight of the sparkling magenta hue that was shimmering upon the steamy surface of the brew, "much better, good girl!"

Mildred felt a twinge of happiness build within her as she listened carefully to the advice being imparted to her, chattering away carefreely to the previously feared potions mistress as she brewed the complex concoction, finally flourishing beneath the gentle, supportive advice and encouragement. Miss Hardbroom had suggested the extra classes as a means of improving Mildred's chances of gaining entry to the prestigious Weirdsister College, but although her potioneering skills were improving beyond recognition, Mildred enjoyed the chance to spend more time with the witch with whom she was developing a close friendship, exchanging ideas, allowing the traditional barriers of teacher-student tradition to fall by the wayside as they had become closer, their bond blossoming following their shared, traumatic experiences in the previous year, a dawning mutual understanding and respect beginning to take root and grow.

Outside of their private study sessions, Constance still maintained the expected classroom frostiness towards Mildred, until recently her most infuriating pupil, but there was a knowing, reassuring twinkle in her hazel eyes that had not always been present before when the customary orders and criticisms were barked, an almost apologetic glance thrown in Mildred's direction as she reprimanded the class for their lax behaviour, chiding them for their lack of care and finesse in her familiar style, pushing each pupil to achieve her best, but now watching on caringly as Mildred worked hard to improve her previously abysmal marks, steadily throwing aside the clumsiness of youth and transforming into the powerful young witch that she was destined to be, the other Fairweatherite witch, possessor of the purest of magical powers.

However, unbeknown to the pair, the tranquil, contended scene was being coldly observed from a distance by an unseen intruder, the shadowy figure of an unknown witch who was staring glassily through the lead paned window with such a fixed intensity that had it not been for the simmering warmth of the cauldron, the occupants of the room would have felt their blood run cold at the sight of the unblinking automaton, barely human in her stillness, patiently watching her prey, a spider teasing the silken threads of her web, pulling them ever closer to her darkened lair, preparing to eventually drop down on a spindle of gossamer thread and greedily engulf them, her breath leaving steamy trails of condensation to slide in little rivers of teardrops down the frozen glass. Allowing time to slip by like grains of sand through her fingers, the wait was irrelevant to her, she was incessantly perseverant. Waiting. Waiting for the moment.

A faint whimper accompanied by the smash of falling glass from her left told Mildred that all was far from well. She had turned away to add another sprig of bindweed to her merrily bubbling cauldron, watching in awed wonder as the final shower of golden sparks danced across the frothing solution indicating a perfectly proportioned brew, waiting eagerly from the note of approval from Miss Hardbroom, only to not receive a reply. She wheeled around, transfixed by what she saw, anxiety twisting her stomach into tense knots at the extent of her helplessness in being unable to provide any assistance, her heart leaping in fright as her gaze met with the terrified, wide-eyed stare of Miss Hardbroom, her usually pale face ashen and glazed with pain, tears of surprise and agony beginning to well up in the hazel eyes which were silently pleading for help, beseeching Mildred to come to her aid.

Constance was bent double from her majestic height, one willowy, velvet-clad arm wrapped tightly across her bony torso as if she had been shot in the stomach, a raging pain tearing mercilessly through her head as she reached out and clutched tightly at Mildred's arm, the nearest obvious means of support in a bid to prevent herself from toppling over and crumpling into a helpless state of unconsciousness upon the unforgiving stone floor, her nails digging tightly into the young flesh and drawing blood, another jolt of pain caused her to wince and duck abruptly below the level of the bench as she retched and suddenly vomited, a watery solution splattering noisily upon the floor, her stomach, as usual devoid of food. Beads of dewy sweat were breaking out upon her forehead, glistening in the flickering light from the forgotten cauldron, her senses distorted by the blazing fever which was marching resolutely through her mind, its contained, blistering heat a stark contrast to the slender, icy fingers which gripped desperately onto her young student. She could feel her limbs trembling beneath her like a new-born lamb, her head spinning as if it were trapped in a vortex as the room dissolved into a hazy, pixelated blur of meaningless colours and textures, further nausea rising within her as she could hear the deafening thud of her blood pounding in her ears, the heavy, urgent pulse sounding as if it were threatening to smash through the fragile membranes of her ear canals and allow the raging sea of blood to escape, her pulse quickening in fear at the sudden loss of control, blue sparks of magic stuttered reluctantly into life from her bared fingers, sinking quickly into her skin and halting the dizzying chain of events.

She straightened up, drawing breath shakily and relinquishing her death-grip upon Mildred's arm, tiny droplets of ruby blood oozing from the talon gashes and trickling slowly in a reddish trail down the pale skin towards her narrow wrist, the dark liquid glittering wetly as it meandered slowly downwards from the open wounds which littered the girl's arm, looking as if she had been attacked and mauled by a pack of wild dogs such had been the anguished desperation of the potions teacher.

"Mildred.." she murmured, a sharp wave of guilt rising within her as she surveyed the damage that she had unwittingly inflicted, immediately reaching forward with a trembling hand and placing her willowy index fingers at either end of the open wound and persuading dancing sparks to escape from her slender digits and carefully knit the damaged membranes back together, effortlessly fusing the broken skin until a faint squeak from Mildred caused her to look down at the wound, cursing beneath her breath at the magic surge that had led to the stab of pain that had raced along Mildred's arm. "I'm sorry," she flinched, retracting her fingers immediately, "Please forgive me..." Another surge of pain shot without prior warning across her ribcage, like a bolt of electricity, causing Constance to double up in distress, a hiss of surprise escaping from between her tightly clenched teeth as she once more fought to maintain her balance as Mildred's concerned face swam in front of her vision.

"I'm going to get help, I'm going to Miss Cackle!" Mildred had seen enough, her caring instincts on red-alert at the sight of the invincible HB clinging onto consciousness by a thread, the mighty sorceress reduced to a trembling wreck by the unseen illness which was clawing savagely away at her.

"No..." the hoarse whisper came from beside her, each syllable released with huge effort from the quaking teacher, panting for her breath as if she had run a marathon, each gasp sounding like a death rattle from her constricted throat, "Please, al-low me a m-oment!"

Suddenly the vice of pain broke as if she had never felt ill in the first place, the chains of ailment suddenly falling away, the dark shadowy clouds breaking apart to reveal the sun once more. Cautiously she straightened up, massaging her tender ribs which were already protesting following the retching that had preceded the excruciating episode.

"Miss?" enquired Mildred tentatively, her blue eyes wide with concern, "Miss, what is it?"

Constance took her time in replying, carefully assessing every minute detail of her well-being with the critical eye of the advanced potioneer and the razor-sharp intellect of the revered academic before she permitted herself to utter a single syllable. "Gone…" she mused thoughtfully, "Just vanished..."

The figure at the window felt the surge of joy rise within her as the Mistress expressed her delight; her unbridled elation bleeding through into the witch's consciousness like a fireworks display of vibrant colours and explosions, a riotous display of euphoria, such was the strength of the emotions attached to the sight which she had just witnessed.

"_It has begun," _came the satisfied voice within her mind, each word ringing with a sparkling layer of contented malicious glee, a proud, almost prophetic statement.

"_Her time has come…"_


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: Hello, sorry once more for the delay between updates, but I have been snowed under with exams for my music coursework plus the mountain of revision for my summer A-level exams! Thank you once more to everyone who has taken the time to review so far- they really do make my day!**

"Morning!" said Enid breezily, settling down at the breakfast table with her friends, tossing her single dark plait over her shoulder and casting a look of mild disgust at the concrete porridge that was setting rapidly within her green china bowl.

"I said good morning!" she pushed, a slight creased appearing in her smooth forehead as a faint frown of irritation appeared, "Unless you're all still asleep!"

Mildred peeled herself away from her book to smile sleepily at her agitated friend. She had barely slept from anxiety over the sudden attack that had struck HB the night before in her extra lesson, worry gnawing away at her restless mind like a dog with a bone, determined not to leave her alone.

"Hullo Enid," she blinked sluggishly and stifled a yawn with a faintly trembling hand, "Sorry, I'm just trying to get in some last minute revision for the spells test this morning, don't want to get off to a bad start with Miss Nightdew…"

Enid sighed in exasperation at the sight of the pales face and huge dark rings beneath the eyes of all her friends, each looking as if they hadn't slept in a week.

"What on earth has got into you all?" she questioned, "What's all the extra work for?"

Ruby broke away from her frantic note taking long enough to provide brief explanation, Maud and Jadu not even looking up long enough to recognise the presence of the raven-haired witch.

"We have the first papers in our Witches Higher Certificate in November, that's only in two months' time Enid if you hadn't forgotten! If we fail any of our exams, its automatic exclusion from any further exams and moving on to the fourth year!" she snapped tersely, returning to her revision, "HB is looking for any excuse to kick us out, so I intend to work hard this year, I need top grades to get into the magical science courses that I'm looking at!"

Enid rolled her eyes and crossed her arms tightly across her slender chest, "Come on you lot, where's the fun in spending every single hour of the day and night engrained in a dusty old book? We haven't had a midnight feast yet, haven't slipped out of bounds to Mrs Cosie's, haven't gone for an early morning broomstick flight, haven't spoken to Fenny and Gris in ages- loosen up for heaven's sake!"

After receiving no more than a customary murmur of disinterested acknowledgement from her peers, the infuriated witch slammed her bowl down on the wooden table, metal spoon firmly embedded in the unyielding, solid, inedible mass, the ensuing crash barely causing the frantically scribbling witches to bat an eyelid as she pushed her chair back with a loud, harsh scrape of wood on wooden boards, a shrill squeal which set her teeth on edge.

"Fine! Be like that!" she snapped, getting to her feet abruptly, "I'll see you in class!" she glowered over her shoulder before attempting to stride off and nearly colliding with the diminutive form of Lina Nightdew.

"Enid?" she questioned gently, a delicate eyebrow arching in slight disapproval of the girls actions, the slight emphasis placed upon the name expressing her unspoken questions in one, unobtrusive gesture. She paused to address the entire table.

"I'm glad to see you all revising hard," she smiled, a slight glint of concern present in her eyes as she surveyed the collection of exhausted students, "I hope you have remembered that you have an assessed spells class in 10 minutes, Miss Cackle will be attending to observe the progress that we have made so far this term, so please ensure that you are prompt."

"Yes Miss Nightdew," came the bleary reply.

Xxx

Constance Hardbroom sank thankfully into the awaiting armchair, her limbs still somewhat weak from her mysterious attack of illness from the night before. She shivered as she wrapped her slender fingers around the steaming mug of tea that Amelia had taken the time to place in her hands, watching the faint wisps of steam curl lazily into the air, goosebumps still stubbornly raised upon the backs of her willowy wrists, remembering with a wry smile the faint look of maternal disapproval cast towards her recuperating form by the headmistress as she saw the discarded plate of toast with a few disinterested nibbles dissected experimentally from the golden crust.

Her mind was still racing, frustration building steadily beneath her calm demeanour as each logical solution that she proposed to herself to explain her descent into sickness drew a resounding blank, or hit a logistical dead-end. Patiently she attempted to pick away at any tell-tale thread of information, untangling the web of mysteries that were shielding the truth from her enquiring mind, brushing away the cobwebs and attempting to focus clearly upon the puzzle in front of her.

She let out her breath in a long, slow sigh, leaning her heavy head back into the comforting upholstery, resting her aching neck muscles and rolling her hazel eyes back into her head, cursing her lack of energy from the night's previous exertions as she kneaded her aching forehead upon the fingertips of her cool hands, the unexpected chill sending minute pathways of cold across the blazing surface. She seemed to have been cursed with the interminable headache for an entire fortnight, perhaps an adverse side-effect to her beloved Wide-Awake potion, but this particular ailment seemed to march on with unwavering determinedness whatever magical or natural cure she used in a bid to remove its blight from her presence. She shifted uncomfortably, barely inclining her head in reciprocation as Amelia rose from the dining table and wished her good morning before departing to assess the third year spells class, the kindly headmistress attempting to mask her concern at the sight of her visibly weakened deputy head, but unbeknown to her, her own magic was readily betraying her deepest concerns and worries to the watchful eye of the younger woman.

She had always been able to see the colours. To her, each witch had always given off the faintest of magical signatures, a shimmering, shifting, unique aura of power that swirled faintly in a colourful, misty ether, almost unnoticed and invisible to the naked eye which snaked tightly around the forms of the many sorceresses within the castle, their very shadows dancing with raw magical energy, usually weaker and untamed in the many pupils that she had seen over her many years at Cackles, but always suited to the owner, a true reflection of the very nature of the witch, their weaknesses, desires, strengths- a projection of the very essence of their character. Mildred's was a somewhat of an enigma, chaotic yet controlled and purposeful, magical creativity leaping from her like tongues golden flames in her youthful exuberance, Ethel's had the shining radiance of regal power, the mark of a witch with the purest of magical blood, a vivacity which was deeply imbedded within the shimmering hue, but was underlain by a darker, destructive urge which bled through into the silvery strands, tainting the purity of the magical forces. And as for Hecketty Broomhead, her aura had been nothing but pitch-black, a savage glint of demonic satisfaction present in the underlying barrage of twisted thoughts and sadistic joy. But, this newcomer, she thought, casting a furtive look at the diminutive form of Lina Nightdew who was hastily scooping a toppling pile of exercise books into her open arms whilst frantically attempting to drain the remaining stale dregs of tea from her blue china mug without dribbling messy flecks of liquid down the front of her pristine midnight blue robes before leaving for her morning classes, she had never seen an aura so, so,_ guarded_, barely a chink of self-advertisement creeping through the iron-cast barrier, holding her cards tightly to her chest, not even her magic choosing to betray its true strengths and weaknesses, a veritable void of colour present, a web of secrets obscuring the complexities within. An interesting character indeed… she mused to herself as she stared for a little longer than intended at the elfin features of the younger woman, her intrusive gaze falling like the sharpest of needles prickling across the spells teachers skin as she lifted her deep blue eyes to stare inquisitively back at the thoughtful features of Constance Hardbroom, an almost fearful hue appearing momentarily within her young eyes which she excused by quickly brushing a wayward strand of blonde hair away from her delicately proportioned features, agitated by the silent scrutiny that she was being subjected to. She raised a slender eyebrow obstinately in direct confrontation, almost looking as if she were going to retort in a harsh rebuttal to the private analysis that was being made of her by the senior member of staff, but hurriedly checked herself and swept abruptly out of the room, a faint breeze adding to the existing chill in the staffroom as she swept past in a soft, velvety swish of material.

"Well, well, well… Miss Nightdew…" sighed Constance quietly to herself, shaking her head slightly as she continued to stare after the retreating form of the trainee teacher, "what an conundrum you are…"

Her breath caught in her throat and she involuntarily clutched tightly at the faded fabric of the chair as the unexpected thought burst forth ominously within her teeming mind, seizing her self-control of even the most basic of functions and disabling them in its devastating wake, frozen, rooted to the spot in the full realisation of the possible implications of the nightmarish vision that had dared to creep into her suspicious considerations, feeding hungrily upon the growing uncertainty, pushing up determinedly from where it had been cast to the depths of her consciousness and unfurling triumphantly like a noxious weed, mercilessly throttling any remnants of a peaceful state of mind. Slowly, with a hugely impeding sense of doom, she rose to her trembling feet, suddenly devoid of her usual calm, assured confidence as she wrapped her slender arms tightly across her bony chest and dematerialised.

Xxx

As soon as she felt the world around her disappear into the familiar hazy kaleidoscope of blurry images and distorted, muffled sounds, she knew instantly that something was very wrong, a dark, predatory presence was stalking within the timeless strands of nothingness, springing forward and seizing her within its vice-like grip, tearing viciously into her disembodied flesh, determinedly trying to prevent her from re-appearing at her chosen destination, acting like a lead weight, a manacle that was determined to shackle her permanently to the open wastelands of non-existence and prevent her safe return. With tremendous effort, she felt herself wrench free from the death-grip, her head spinning with the combined shock and terror of the situation, powerless to run, trapped as mere molecules within the bleak space of the atmosphere, waiting, praying to reappear.

She stuttered into visibility once more within Amelia's office with a sharp intake of breath, her gaunt face a startling, ghostly white as she collapsed heavily to her knees, her traumatised joints failing to support her frail weight, doubled up with her hand clutched tightly to her side, hyperventilating in her panic, spasms of suppressed tears choking her coarsely within her rapidly closing throat as she withdrew the violently trembling hand to see the horrific sight of snowy white skin soaked in a glistening, viscous liquid, a sharp, metallic scent roughly punctuating the dusty air as she looked down fearfully to see sickening sight of dark, sticky blood oozing from a gaping wound in her side where a fractured rib had punctured the fragile skin beneath the flowing black dress.

The heavy, dull thud accompanied by the deafening blast of a nearby explosion forced her, hissing in pain onto all fours, screaming in protest at her involuntary reaction to the unexplained detonation, for once the impending chaos firmly at the back of her mind as she fought to maintain consciousness, her vision beginning to break up into hazy pixels and darken off at the edges as she felt the warm blaze of tears surge down her frozen cheeks, a scorching river of agony sliding in a meandering course down the alabaster complexion, the inevitable pull of gravity guiding each of the salty teardrops to its downward destination.

The door was flung open and an ashen-faced Amelia Cackle stumbled across the threshold, running her fingers frantically through her hair, angrily brushing dark sooty stains from her face, muttering beneath her breath but then stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of the immobile woman who was lying upon the floor in a helpless, crumpled heap, too weak to even scream such was the overriding agony that she was clearly being subjected to.

"Constance!" she gasped, running forwards to the prone body of the casualty, all thoughts of the events that had previously unfolded leaving her mind in an instant at the sight of the injured woman, momentarily fearing the worst after seeing the glazed expression in the hazel eyes, reassured by the spasmodic rise and fall of her stricken chest that Constance was indeed alive.

The last thing that Constance saw before giving into the beckoning temptation of unconsciousness was the lined face of Amelia Cackle bending over her, cradling her head within her lap as she set to work in summoning assistance, the relief of knowing that she was in the safe arms of her colleague reassuring her gently as the world slowly faded to the awaiting, welcoming numbness of the blackness that swept across her vision and she passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:**** Decided to update with an extra-long chapter for Easter, a little early I know, but hey, never mind! Just to clarify the timescales, the main scene in this chapter is happening at the same time as Constance appears in Amelia's office in the last chapter.**

**A huge thank you to the lovely Chrissiemusa and LongVodka who have been my consistent reviewers *awards chocolate bunnies* and who have been so supportive :)**

**Reviews always make my day!**

**(Apologies for the multiple alerts- FF was playing up last night!)**

Mildred Hubble clapped a hand over her mouth in desperation as she walked into the Spells classroom, frantically stifling a large yawn as her aching body protested loudly to the lack of sleep from the previous evening. Being up half the night had barely contributed positively to her frantic cramming for the assessed spells class, she felt as if her brain had been removed and replaced with cotton wool, a thick, muggy feeling sitting squarely between her ears in a stodgy, inert mass as she fought to maintain her concentration without yet another shuddering yawn punctuating her thoughts. Her focus kept breaking as the haunting image of Constance bent double beneath the excruciating pain of the external forces that were tormenting her swan determinedly in front of her eyes, stained indelibly into her retinas, the once invincible deputy head, the cornerstone that Cackles was built upon, the unshakable rock who was the first person to leap to the school's aid in a crisis, the immeasurably powerful HB felled like a blade of grass, quaking, an look of unnerving fear present in the hurt hazel eyes as she realised that she was powerless to resist, the cracks beginning to show in the unbreakable façade as she grappled fruitlessly with the dark powers within.

A sharp collision with her elbow bought her to her senses with a muffled yelp of surprise as Maud brushed past her impatiently, evidently considering an apology, however small, an unnecessary extravagance of words as she slotted neatly into the vacant space at the desk next to Ruby, barely noticing her bemused best friend, her youthful eyes tarnished with dark circles, her skin a sallow greyish hew as if she hadn't slept in weeks as she once more opened her satchel and feverishly began to read through the entire textbook, her eyes moving at a breath-taking pace across the small typed font, desperately trying to remember every speck of detail upon the faded, yellowing pages.

Mildred sadly resumed her usual solitary place at the unoccupied desk at the back of the room, twisting her fingers absent-mindedly around one of her bedraggled plaits as she stared at the hunched shoulders of Maud Moonshine. Aside from the exchanged niceties on the first day of term, the two girls had barely spoken; the uncomfortable lack of communication a harsh reminder of their on-going dispute that time had neglected to heal, first stemming from Mildred's secretive disappearance and her reluctance to talk about the traumatic weeks following the mysterious death of Hecketty Broomhead despite Maud and Enid's concerned questioning, brushing away their concerned care choosing instead to avoid the company of her two best friends and seek sanctuary in the welcoming solitary confinement of her room, curled up in bed with only the ever loyal Tabby and her racing thoughts, trying to gain some form of acceptance of the traumatic experience that she had been subject to, deliberately avoiding the confusing clutter and noise of everyday life, panicked by the rush and noise of the world outside, seeking the quiet recluse of her bed to try to gain some understanding of the complex set of circumstances that had so nearly lead to her death, to try to understand how her link to the Fairweathers had redefined her entire status as a witch- her, the bumbling but well-meaning and caring young girl who had suddenly discovered a thrilling but terrifying new aspect to her persona, the awesome powers of a Fairweatherite witch that lurked deep within her soul, the sought-after magical purity that some would happily murder her for in cold-blood, slaughter her mindlessly for who she was, for what she stood for, the ancestor of the purest witch who had ever lived. However, due to her reluctance to share in the painful details of the distressing experience, there was an awkward distance growing between the previously staunch friends, a nagging doubt of mistrust that was pushing them further apart, a widening gulf that they were powerless to halt. Maud had clearly chosen to devote her time and energy to her studies, burying herself up to the hilt with extra work to avoid having to even think about the crumbling friendship and the further implications of their dispute, leaving Mildred alone to bear the weight of her increasingly complex thoughts and concerns.

Any further time for reminiscing was abruptly ended by the sound of the familiar rapid, small footfalls ringing out on the stone floor of the corridor, delicate fairy footsteps announcing the impending arrival of Lina Nightdew who swept brightly into the room in her customary manner, somehow managing to balance the toppling pile of exercise books that were teetering precariously in her firm grasp, her face slightly flushed, little dapples of pink appearing in a faint display of irritation, her brow furrowed into a slight frown which she took great care to remove from her youthful features before addressing the assembled class, a heart-melting smile spreading slowly across her lips as she greeted the third years, the familiar friendly twinkle glistening playfully in her deep blue eyes, her velvety robes only accentuating the startling midnight depths of her eyes.

"Good morning girls," she greeted them calmly, carefully extracting a hand from beneath the pile of books and extending her index finger towards the stacked volumes, unleashing a shower of purple sparks which caused the exercise books to soar into the air and distribute themselves to the correct owners.

"Good morning, Miss Nightdew," chorused the assembled witches, rising to their feet as Lina swept down the aisle between the wooden desks, clapping her hands and causing the chalky remnants of the previous night's detention class to lift themselves automatically from the blackboard in a dusty cloud.

A faint cough from the doorway announced the unobtrusive arrival of Amelia Cackle who seated herself quietly beside Mildred in the sole available desk at the back of the room, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses firmly onto the bridge of her nose as she summoned a form into existence upon the knotted surface of the desk, smiling warmly at Lina and motioning for her to continue as she observed the class's progress.

The diminutive witch raised her head so that she confidently met the eyes of each of the eager young witches, motioning for them to once more rise to their feet with a sweep of her right hand.

"To build upon work that we have already studied this term, and to demonstrate your growing ability in casting Intermediate level spells, I have decided that we shall be attempting some group-casting today!" she addressed the class enthusiastically, waving the various assortment of desks and chairs neatly to one side of the room, clearing the floor space surrounding the pupils.

Lina stepped down from the teaching platform, her distinct lack of height only further emphasised as she stood next to the girls, barely reaching the shoulder height of the growing young women.

"I would like you to form a circle, gather relatively closely so that you are within touching distance of your neighbour," she paused momentarily to adjust the position of some of the girls and beckoning to Amelia to join the ring "Good, that's it girls," she resumed. "Now, as I'm sure that you are aware, group casting is one of the most effective methods of casting a spell, the combined magical strengths working in harmony to create the desired effect- two heads being better than one so as to speak, but it too carries many potential pitfalls, many probable hazards if not approached with due care and attention, would any of you like to suggest a possible consequence associated with this type of casting?" She broke off, looking expectantly at the assembled witches, hoping that one at least would have the courage to demonstrate their knowledge in front of Miss Cackle.

Jadu Wali raised her hand tentatively.

"Yes, Jadu," Lina prompted reassuringly.

"If one of the casters breaks the circle whilst the spell is being cast, it might create a backwash of negative magical energy which would rebound directly upon a member of the round," recited the girl quietly, secretly pleased that her meticulous studying of group casting theory had been proven to be useful.

"Exactly, well done!" beamed Lina, "Any other suggestions?"

A few more of the class braved the invitation to share their opinions, raising hands slowly.

"The Fosters effect?" suggested Enid, gaining a swift nod of approval from Miss Nightdew, "If the spell was trivial or selfish to the benefit of one of the group?"

Ethel Hallow pouted when it came to her turn, refusing to offer a suggestion, gaining her a strategically raised eyebrow from Miss Cackle. Ever since her first day run-in with Lina Nightdew and subsequent detention (gaining the dubious merit of being the only Hallow to ever earn a detention in all the illustrious years spent at the academy by the family) she had treated any suggestions made to her by the new teacher with obvious contempt, casting a look of scornful disdain in her direction whenever the opportunity arose. She still hadn't recovered from the indignity of having to take her place amongst the usual trouble makers, copying lines and scrubbing floors until they were gleaming. "Servants work!" she had been heard to hiss in indignation from between her pursed lips.

As the queue of prospective answers dwindled, Mildred raised her hand shyly, "Please, miss, I remember reading about a case of _Magickus Obliteratus_ being associated with a group of witches casting the same spell, what exactly is _Magickus Obliteratus_?"

Amelia had been listening interestedly to the suggestions, but her face lit up at discussing the rare magical effect, the evident passion for her subject coming to the fore.

"A peculiar phenomenon indeed," she mused thoughtfully, apologising briefly to Lina for interrupting, "when two magical forces are so drastically opposed in character, so conflicting in intent that the forces can simply not be made to work harmonically, in essence tearing apart the circle and unleashing the combined magical intensity of the casters upon the surroundings, two polar forces of good and evil, dark and pure magic of the highest magical intensity meeting irrevocably in a disastrous liaison of power…"

Her face lightened, "However that is a far from common example! The magical intensities would have to be of unrivalled power to generate that level of incompatibility!"

Lina nodded carefully in agreement, "but certainly an interesting point, Mildred," she praised.

She turned her attention back the class. "Now, we shan't be attempting anything too complex today, just something that will allow you to gain a feel for the levels of magical co-operation required to master the art of group casting, an easy art to master but a difficult one to perfect! I was thinking a group spell to puffify this vase, a nice, straightforward introduction,"

She broke off to retrieve a rather ugly, misshapen vase from the corner of the room, eyeing it with displeasure as she placed it within the centre of the circle.

"Not one of my most treasured possessions!" she quipped wryly as she returned to her original place.

"Now, if everyone would link hands with the person to each side of them," she directed carefully, offering her slender hands to Maud Moonshine and Ruby Cherrytree and watching carefully as the witches all followed suite. "Good, now, I want you all to focus upon the features of that rather hideous creation, imagine you are casting the spell to banish it into its rightful place in the ether! Feel the magical energy begin to take the shape of the spell, allow it to blossom, feel the power running through the circle…"

As she spoke, a faint haze of shimmering magic seemed to rise from between the linked hands, a trembling signal that grew in magnitude as each of the young witches focused upon the vase, visible beads of sweat breaking out on some of their brows as they focused their entire attention on relinquishing the flow of magic.

"That's it girls, now, I want you to fix the words of the incantation in your heads, speak the words aloud in your minds…"

The intensity of the magical haze rose, a clear circle of light flowing freely between the linked hands, bathing the dusty interior of the castle chamber in a glistening glow as the magic enclosed the casters in a circle, an unbroken ring of power.

"Nobody move…" muttered Amelia, watching carefully for the slightest muscular twitch, "Don't break the connection…"

"Begin the spell," whispered Lina, her eyes unblinking in concentration, "Start chanting…"

"**Miaznum Vaporum, Efferium Futomn"**

The witches spoke as one, the incantation rippling through the room in a concentrated whisper, the strength of the magical bond increasing exponentially as they continued to chant.

"**Miaznum Vaporum, Efferium Futomn"**

Mildred could feel her hands beginning to tremble violently beneath the magnitude of the contained power, her magic flowing from her like a waterfall, destructive in its awesome grandeur and beauty. A glance at her fellow classmates showed that she was not the only one to be struggling against the crushing force of the combined magic. However, a sudden, strong push from her right caused her to wince and tighten her grip upon Enid's hand, an underlying current was creeping slowly around the perimeter of the circle, a dark shadow hiding within the sparkling auras, stalking, preparing to pounce as it flexed its metaphorical muscles, concentrating upon her magical force, looking horns like two raging bulls, a devastating feeling akin to forcing the same poles of two magnets together, resistance of the strongest kind as the antithesis to her powers fought against her contribution to the spell. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused upon pushing the opposing force as far away as possible, reaching out through her mind to appease the foreign feeling of magical opposition, attempting to submerge the unseen competitor beneath the combination of her peers' contributions.

"Ready?" gasped Amelia, having to shout over the deafening din, her eyes wide and staring, her grey hair whipping rapidly around her face in the draught caused by the growing spell. She could sense that something was far from right within the formation of the incantation, a cold sweat of fear breaking out upon the back of her neck as her heart began thudding wildly in a terrified machine-gun fire of stuttering beats, dreading to continue, but knowing that to break ranks now would be suicide. She could feel the supernatural forces pulsating angrily, two warring fronts that refused to concede, locked in combat, unyielding and stubborn in their standoff. To her right, she could feel Mildred quaking beneath the sheer weight of the magic, barely remaining standing, her knees trembling violently. Her veined and knotted hands clenched tightly around Mildred's and Jadu's, almost cutting off the circulation so tight was her grip. Delaying any further would result in the inevitable collapse of the circle; she knew that she had to continue regardless of the consequences.

"Now!" she bellowed.

"**Miaznum Vaporum, Efferium Futomn"**

The words hung in the air for what seemed to be an eternity as time came to a near stop. A deathly silence filled the air before the inevitable happened, the final utterance of the enchantment pushing the boiling wrath of magic to a breaking point.

The sound of an ear-splitting blast ripped mercilessly through the air, a wave of raw energy wrenching the circle apart, slamming the young witches into the unforgiving stones walls like grains of sand being washed up a beach, weightless, thrown aside like rag-dolls as the spell imploded upon itself, wrenched apart by the two opposing forces, aftershocks of magic shaking the very foundations of the ancient castle, plaster and rubble falling from the lofty beams in a nightmarish confetti as the sonic rumble rocked through the school, glass exploding simultaneously within the leaded window panes and showering the cowering occupants of the room, shards peppering the walls with deadly shrapnel, the vase that was the initial focus of the spell obliterated into a ground powder, a myriad of high-pitched screams punctuating the cloying, smoky air in a hellish symphony of fear and confusion.

Nobody moved or spoke for quite some time afterwards, most too shocked to even contemplate moving from the position where they had been flung by the magical backwash, too terrified to even brush the flaked masonry dust from their hair or remove the sooty smudges from their cheeks, the young witches suddenly looking a good five years younger, scared children's eyes peeping out from behind the carnage that littered the floor of the classroom, broken splinters of desks smoldering gently, torn fabrics hanging in ragged lengths, torn leaves from books falling gently to earth from the sky, guttering and dancing lifelessly in the fading breeze as they spiraled downwards.

Mildred winced as she pushed herself upwards as she carefully inspected herself; relieved she could not feel any greater injury apart from the aching bruises which were already beginning to form upon her back and legs. Enid was stirring feebly to her right, an obvious black eye beginning to throb where she had been struck by a falling piece of timber, Jadu lying winded upon the stone floor, massaging her side furiously. One by one, the girls began to pick themselves up, shaken by the dramatic experience but none seriously hurt. An ashen faced Lina Nightdew crawled out from beneath the rubble and helped Amelia to her feet. The trainee witch straightened up and went to sweep a restorative beam of magic across the room, but the Headmistress's hand closed tightly upon her slim wrist, halting any spells in their tracks.

"No!" she hissed angrily, her usual polite manners deserting her in the aftermath of the explosion, concerned only for the welfare of her pupils, "There's enough magical energy loose in here already, and any more would certainly trigger the Foster's Effect!"

Lina looked shamefully at the floor, twisting her small hands awkwardly, "Please, Miss Cackle, I can't apologise enough…"

She received an odd look from Amelia as she briskly straightened her dust-laden robes, a slightly more sympathetic note appearing in her voice as she squinted toward the young woman through her cracked spectacles.

"I think," she suggested firmly, gesturing towards the class, "it would be beneficial for the girls to be allowed to go and rest in their rooms for the time being, Miss Nightdew."

Lina nodded faintly as the girls rose and departed, still too shell-shocked for their usual rowdy chatter to break out.

Xxx

**Later that evening…**

Constance Hardbroom lay curled up within her bed, a swath of bandages wrapped protectively around her side as the torn flesh began to heal, the snowy white of the soft material barely providing a noticeable contrast to her milky skin. Her eyes were moving rapidly beneath the full, dark eyelashes which framed her almond shaped eyes, darting, illogical movements; her shallow breaths coming in fits and starts as she moaned faintly in panic, her hand intertwined within the long, ebony tendrils of hair which spilled messily across the purple satin pillow.

Something was stalking within her dreams, the feral snarl of the determined hunter echoing savagely behind her within the fantasy world, the familiar icy prickling of fear and adrenaline causing the hairs to rise upon the back of her swan-like neck, the ingrained reflex of man vs. predator preparing her to run for her life, her breathing increasing, heart rate tripling, a thudding, irregular bass drum resonating wildly within her as she began to run blindly in her terror, her bare feet pounding frantically upon the stony wastelands, the coursing adrenaline leaving her unflinching at the pain as numerous cuts and scars began to open upon the soles of her feet, angry blisters rising upon the purulent flesh as she sought to evade the hot breath of the unseen pursuer which was present in searing warmth upon the back of her bare legs, her immaculate hair tumbling wildly over her face in matted, sweaty curls, her breaths rasping uncomfortably in her throat as she jolted awake, the snug, comforting covers knotting tightly around her thrashing limbs, the soft material suddenly acting as a rigid straightjacket that was forcing her into physical submission to the unseen threat in her dreams, buckling her down into suppression, a victim of her own actions, the deranged lunatic being forcibly constrained over the demonic imaginings which were haunting her psyche night and day.

Constance blinked slowly and licked her parched lips. The familiar surroundings of her chamber came into view from the shadows, her heart still fluttering as if a captive bird was desperately trying to break free from the unrelenting constrictions of her ribcage. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead, wiping away the dewdrops of glistening sweat with an expression of distaste, pushing her tumbling curls absent-mindedly away from her gaunt features with a vague wave of her hand.

"It was just a dream…" she chided herself cautiously, "Nothing but a nightmare…"

She knew that she was lying to herself as she sank exasperatedly back into the warm nest of sheets, the niggling doubt of paranoia nudging her mentally, the maddened scream of frustration building once more within her like mercury rocketing towards the top of a thermometer as she turned her enviable logic to picking apart the strands of intrigue. She felt like a petulant child angrily throwing a puzzle to one-side when the pieces refused to assemble to reveal the clear picture, her patience exhausted in knowing that the strands of information were within her reach, yet snatched away from her like a dog being baited with a bone, the confusing blur of coincidences and suspicions clouding her judgement, refusing to part to allow her the glimpse of the truth.

Her eyes fell upon the ticking clock that sat patiently upon her bedside table, marking time in its usual methodical manner, the composed, logical tick-tock almost mocking her with its calm regularity. Three o'clock! Heaven knows how long she had been unconscious for!

The slightest noise from outside her room was enough to shred her carefully gathered nerves, a slight creak from the floorboards as the unseen person shifted their weight from one leg to another, and the soft sweep of material on stone as a flowing cloak was drawn tightly around their shoulders.

"Amelia?" she questioned weakly, easing herself up into a sitting position, cursing her own temporary frailty as she tried to inject a note of control into her voice, assuming her familiar dictatorial tones in a bid to try to recover some confidence.

"Mildred, is that you?" she felt her blood run cold at the slow but methodical turning of the door handle, faint metallic clicks punctuating the still night air as the gates opened within the lock as the unseen observer attempted to enter the deputy head's chamber, the calm orderliness of their mysterious approach instantly telling her that it was not the accident-prone third year.

She attempted to shoot a bolt of magic at the door to seal it against the unseen threat, but nothing but a pathetic, dying squib fell from her trembling fingers, rendering her powerless to resist the unseen threat. She shook her bony wrists frantically, trying to summon the mighty powers within her to combat the threat, finally persuading a jet of pure silver light to escape from her bared fingers, a shield which sealed her chambers to the outside, ceasing the path of the intruder. She may be wounded, but she was still fighting.


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors Note: Hello again! Inspiration struck quite quickly for this next chapter, hence another update before Easter! A huge thank you to all my reviewers and all the lovely people who have taken the time to read this so far.**

**Reviews always make my day!**

Sunlight was sweeping gloriously into the lofty chamber in the West Tower, drenching the immaculate surroundings with its orange glow, the faint warmth of the new day blossoming into life filling the room with its dancing vitality, highlighting the supposedly sleeping form of the beautiful witch who was tucked up safely beneath the purple satin sheets, her dark hair splayed out care-freely across the pillows in ebony curls, her breaths coming in slow, steady movements of her delicate chest, her willowy hands resting gently at her side, index and little fingers permanently bared in readiness should the time come where she would have to defend herself. A hazel eye twitched suspiciously beneath the pale eyelid, the only betrayal of the projected image of unconsciousness created by the powerful sorceress.

The soft footfall had paused outside her chamber once more, a careful turning of the handle had raised the hairs upon the back of her swanlike neck, adrenaline beginning to flow freely into her veins, her heart beginning to thud uncomfortably as she waited for the intruder to make themselves known. The door creaked open slowly and she pounced, hurling a vicious hex towards the doorway from her prone state, the high-pitched shriek of surprise from the victim who flung herself upon the floor to avoid the directed curse identifying the supposed threat as none other than…

"Mildred Hubble, what on earth do you think you are doing, sneaking into a senior member of staff's chambers at half-past five in the morning?" Miss Hardbroom growled menacingly, her voice hard and unforgiving, as she glared at the unexpected visitor, her brow knitted into a pronounced frown, almost spitting with rage, the hostile snarl akin to a dozing lioness being rudely awakened from her dreams and pouncing verbally upon her victim.

"Well?" she enquired persistently, her eyebrow arched indignantly, "What have you to say for yourself?"

She went to add further to her stinging attack, but broke off abruptly, severely admonishing her cruel tongue as she saw the faint shimmer of tears beginning to blossom in the young girl's eyes, as she picked herself up from the cold stone floor, biting tightly at her lower lip, worrying at the chapped skin as she tried to maintain her composure. Constance's voice softened apologetically as she saw the brutal impact of her harsh words.

"Oh, I'm sorry Millie," she sighed remorsefully, all traces of anger disappearing from her exhausted features as she patted the chair next to the bed, straightening up awkwardly into a sitting position, determined not to wince from her previous injury, pushing her loosened dark hair back over her narrow shoulders. "Come on, sit down…"

"I heard that you weren't well..." Mildred began awkwardly, sniffing back the unwanted tears and cursing her over-sensitivity, twisting her hands uncomfortably as she moved closer, "So, I hope you don't mind, but I made you this…" She extracted a pale yellow envelope from behind her back and offered it shyly to the potions mistress as she settled carefully upon the wicker chair.

Constance accepted the envelope curiously, teasing it open carefully without tearing the fragile paper and eased out a small, handmade card with her slender, willowy fingers. She smiled for the first time in recent memory, an unaccustomed wave of emotion rising within her throat in a hard lump, which almost threatened to bring a rare tear to her hazel eyes as she stared at the beautifully illustrated scene- to think that she had dared to scold Mildred for attempting to bring her such a thoughtful gift!

A witch was flying majestically through a starry night sky, sitting bolt upright upon the broomstick, her emerald green cloak spread out behind her grandly, the familiar silhouette of Cackles Academy residing below her in the shadowy sky, little specks of orange light decorating the many, tiny window ledges of the rooms below. Her long, ebony hair whipping softly in the wind, freed from its usual, constricting bun and flowing in long tresses over her bony shoulders, her face carried a regal expression, but with an underlying softness to the familiar features, a gentle smile gracing her dark lips as she flew effortlessly amongst the glittering stars.

"It's beautiful…" she whispered, gazing down upon her doppelgänger, brushing trembling fingers lightly over the painstakingly accurate features, wondering upon the sparkle of life that seemed to adorn the entire scene.

"That's not all it does…" breathed Mildred, reaching forwards, "Look…"

She leaned closer, her grey-blue eyes almost seeming to tingle with magical intensity as she stared upon the night-time scene, unleashing her unique gift upon the character within the portrait, channelling her magical energy into the mere lines and shades, unleashing a spark of life, vitality flooding into the scene, causing the familiar witch to rise further into the night sky, her slender hand rising suddenly to the brim of her witches hat to hold it in place as she smiled upon the occupants of the room, circling around above the castle, a joyous, ringing laugh echoing from within the depths of the paper as she swept past upon her faithful broomstick, full of the sheer joy of being alive, albeit only temporarily.

"It must have taken ages, Millie" she praised gently, looking up in wonder at the blushing young girl, "You are truly talented."

"Most of last night," admitted Mildred cautiously, twisting her fingers around her plait absent-mindedly, "I'm just glad that you like it." She added timidly.

"Like it?" Constance raised a slender eyebrow, "My dear, it is simply fantastic, and I say that with all sincerity!"

"Well…" blushed Mildred, a pinkish hue spreading slowly across her milky cheeks, "I-I was w-worried about you…" she broke off nervously, unsure as to how such a direct admittance of concern would be accepted by the notoriously guarded woman.

Constance laid a kind hand upon her arm, a look of brief tenderness passing across her face as she listened to the young witch's stammered explanation.

"Are you still not sleeping?" she enquired softly, attempting to abate most of her worries from infiltrating into the question, however, her hazel eyes betrayed her underlying distress, "Is that why you were able to make the card?"

Mildred shook her head slowly, "No, no I'm not" she mumbled quietly, staring resolutely at the stone flagstones.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see, I-I s-see,-"she broke off abruptly, a faint gasp coming from her as she fought to control the wave of terror that swept through her, tears fighting to escape from her, sobs threatening to strangle her with the sudden rising of fear and terror associated with the images that dances menacingly in front of her mind, memories which refused blankly to leave her in peace, traumatic recollections that stalked relentlessly within her dreaming mind, rising from the depths of her subconscious to torment her once more.

She broke down, violent sobs wracking her body, grimacing internally as the familiar embarrassment of being seen crying in public once more crept slowly over her, attempting to scrub the tears away angrily with the back of her hand, pushing the salty droplets away from her reddening eyes.

"I'm sorry…" she managed to choke out, "P-please forgive me…"

She leaned forward, resting her sharp elbows upon her knees, supporting her aching head upon the cool palms of her trembling hands.

"Even t-the Dreamless S-sleep Potion t-that you g-gave me doesn't work!" she threw her hands up in despair, a humourless laugh escaping from within at the absurd nature of her affliction as she wildly combed her escaping tendrils of dark hair away from her face.

"S-she's still there!" she sobbed uncontrollably, "S-still haunting my e-every move!"

Constance said nothing, but leaned forwards and embraced the young girl, stroking her tangled hair and trying to provide some reassurance to the terrified witch, holding her close as she felt the trembling form beneath her arms.

"I know, Millie, I know…" she shushed quietly, "But she's gone now, she can't harm you anymore…"

She gestured towards the small, faithful blue glass vial that was placed upon her bedside table, its familiar presence soothing as it sat there, glistening faintly in the light.

"I would offer you my Wide Awake Potion," she suggested thoughtfully, reaching for the glass bottle, wrinkling her nose as she smelt the abhorrent smell of the concoction, a strong, yearning ache of desire passing momentarily through her agitated mind as the unmistakable aroma danced teasingly across her longing taste buds, a dark craving for the wondrous substance surging forcefully through her as she unconsciously licked her thin lips in anticipation of the acrid tasting lifeline that pushed the murky recollections firmly back into the shadowy depths of her subconscious, taking control when all seemed set to descend into the impending madness that awaited her.

"However, I speak from experience when I say that just one mouthful greases the slippery slope into addiction, the distinctive taste embedded firmly across your palate, infusing its seductive poison deep into your bloodstream, supressing the memories so that they only hide and fester within, a temporary peace of mind, providing the slightest shred of sanity from the madness but in reality does little in the long-run but to mask the every growing weight of the affliction which will no doubt resurface one day to reclaim the tortured mind of the user. A momentary abatement to the agony, but at such a great personal cost in the development of such complete and utter desperate dependency upon the loathsome substance that one almost wonders if it is ever worth the initial reward…"

She gazed pensively at the swirling contents of the glass flask, "And that is an ill-fated route that I do not wish for you to follow, Mildred…." She added sadly as she replaced the vial carefully upon the table.

Mildred broke away, staring urgently up at her teacher with wide eyes, "I know," she breathed hoarsely, "But the memories, they're so strong, they won't leave me alone…"

She looked miserably at the purple bedclothes, unable to meet the concerned eye of the deputy head.

"I know it's so silly of me," she smiled weakly, her lips quivering beneath the effort of sustaining the expression, "But what with everything else that's going on, l-like f-falling out with Maud, and feeling so w-weak all the time, and h-hearing her voice everywhere I g-go, I just get s-so…"

She hugged Constance tighter, burying her head upon the caring shoulder, her pain and anguish poured into the mutual embrace of the only person in the world who could even hope to bear some understanding to the nightmarish situation that she found herself stranded so helplessly in, until a slight hiss of pain coupled with a sharp intake of breath from Constance brought her to her alarmed senses.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, pulling away quickly as Constance massaged her ribs carefully, "Is that where?"… She trailed off as Constance nodded quickly, her teeth clenched to over-rule the pain that was still curling angrily through her frail form.

"May I?" she questioned gently, her fingers tracing lightly as they moved directly over the affected site. Moments later, she withdrew her hand with a yelp of pain as a surge of magical energy rebuffed her sharply, a feeling like an intense electrical shock passing through her at the slightest contact with the exact site of the wound.

"Careful, Millie, don't touch it!" warned Constance urgently, gritting her teeth as she carefully lifted the edge of the purple satin pyjama top to momentarily reveal the swath of white bandages that enclosed her slender ribcage.

"Whatever caused it seems to have imbedded a magical surge into the site of the injury," she explained, choosing her words carefully upon seeing the horrified look upon her student's face as she replaced the garment, "The damage to the flesh is nothing that can't be fixed over time, but the additional impediment certainly makes trying to redress the wound rather a tricky task…" she sighed, "As poor Amelia found out to her cost…"

"What happened?" the speechless girl managed finally, "What on earth attacked you?"

Constance paused, once more choosing to be a slightly more frugal with the truth until her own fearful suspicions were proven to be correct, taking her time in delicately phrasing her reply.

"I am not completely sure," she admitted truthfully, "but I believe that I know where the answer to the mystery lies..."

She paused to look Mildred directly in the eye. "Mildred, do you know of a book entitled "The Mytheocopia?"

Mildred shook her head, tilting her head slightly to one side as she was accustomed to doing when unsure of something.

"The Mytheocopia," continued Constance, "Is one of the most dangerous magical books in existence; it contains the very darkest examples of our craft, the most evil examples of black magic imaginable, but also accounts of the forgotten elements of the art, an invaluable resource in the study of the magical world."

She paused, considering her next course of action.

"The very volume is hidden within the walls of this castle, contained in a secret compartment within Miss Cackle's office…

She took a deep breath, her mind firmly made up.

"And we are going to have to appropriate it for a short time…"

Mildred's eyes widened, "You mean," she teased lightly, a wicked twinkle appearing within her grey-blue eyes, "the rule-abiding HB is asking me to steal something?"

Despite of the pain, Constance's dark lips twitched slightly in humour as she looked back at the incredulous third year student. "Possibly…" she assented, a faint hint of amusement creeping into her low tones, "Possibly…"

Xxx

They were not the only inhabitants of the castle to be stirring at such an early hour.

Lina Nightdew sat rigidly at her dressing table, efficiently sorting through the cardboard box of belongings that she had hurriedly gathered together to bring with her to her new post, creating neat assortments of her few scarce possessions.

She would not admit it to herself, but she was searching the contents of the box, desperately trying to find the one item that she craved, her most treasured memento that had passed through every moment of trial and tribulation loyally at her side, growing ever desperate as the pile dwindled, hurling items over her shoulder in her frenzied abandon, uncaring for their individual safety as they plummeted to the unforgiving floor behind her with a series of dull thuds and the distinctive tinkle of smashing glass, meaningless in their combined insignificance as she searched fruitlessly for the missing item.

"It must be here, it must be!" she muttered frantically, running her trembling fingers through her cropped blonde hair feverishly, hysteria simmering beneath her composed features, biting back a sob as she ran to her neatly made bed, wrenching off the covers with a surprising amount of strength for her small form, a plume of snowy white feathers erupting into the air as the duvet ripped with a loud shredding noise, scattering its contents into the air, floating lazily to earth in a snow storm of soft, downy quills, a silent, ghostly cloud eddying slowly past.

"No!" she screamed wildly, her throat raw and aching beneath the agony of her loss.

She screamed again, her blue eyes were ablaze with anger and fear, closing tightly as she started shrieking uncontrollably in her distraught state as magic blasted freely from her poised fingers in a bright glare of intense green light, annihilating anything that fell in her unfortunate wake, a blustering breeze whipping into life as she vented her towering fury upon the unfortunate contents of her chamber, material shredding into fine threads, the iron bedstead compacting into a twisted metal ball, wrecked beyond all repair, the ancient wooden floorboards splitting into crumbled splinters, the chest of draws bursting into dancing flames in the wake of her vicious obliteration.

She slumped limply to her knees in exhaustion, biting back the prickling heat of tears as the truth became evident to her, the blossoming wave of hope being abruptly extinguished by the biting, harsh reality of her lonely plight, fuelled by bitter rage and disappointment as she retrieved the only item to survive her manic dismantlement of her surroundings, the silver photo frame depicting that infamous scene.

"Damn her!" she hissed furiously, as she straightened up from amidst the smashed carnage, rage bubbling wrathfully within her, an icy cold contempt rising as she stared coldly at the assembled group within the picture.

"Damn the lot of them!" she snarled angrily, hurling the frame at the stone wall where it bounced off, shattering into little pieces, sinking to lie unflinchingly amongst the debris which littered the previously immaculate room, past caring as tears which had not been shed in over a decade of her short life burst forth in an inconsolable flood as she lay sobbing uncontrollably amongst the wreckage, her bloodied fists hammering weakly against the glass splinters which littered the mangled, charred floorboards.

Xxx

"Constance!" gasped Amelia, leaning over with her hands placed upon the throbbing stitch that was searing angrily within her side, oblivious to Mildred's bemused presence, "Constance! It's, it's gone!"

"Precisely what, Headmistress?" came the calm reply, masking the puzzled expression that had crossed Constance's features when confronted with the sudden, chaotic appearance of Amelia Cackle, her greying hair flying wildly across her face as she burst, unannounced into the chamber, wheezing from the unexpected bout of exercise that had come from sprinting up the tightly spiralling staircase to the upper floors.

"T-the, the," panted Amelia in panic, clutching onto the end of the iron-framed bed for support in her obvious distress, memories of the horror that struck her as she carried out her weekly inspection of the secret hiding place, this time going as far to extract the heavy volume from the dusty compartment, blowing away the heavy smog of cobwebs to reveal… the fake, the substituted relic, the meaningless, worthless replacement of the famed volume.

"The Mytheocopia, it's missing!" she choked in fear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note:**** Sorry for the slight delay in updates, life has got in the way once more!**

**Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed so far, it really makes my day to read your comments! This chapter is set in in the evening of the day of the previous chapter and (without giving too much away) there is some use of flashback to events from You Can Run But You Can't Hide.**

Mildred Hubble sighed and curled up in her iron-framed bed, nestling into her pillows, her sapped body finally threatening to give in to the almighty exhaustion that had threatened to engulf her for so long, sleep washing over her gently like waves lapping against the shore, rocking her to her slumber, a soothing lullaby to her shredded nerves.

"No…" she mumbled sleepily from her prone stance, "Stay awake Millie, stay awake…"

Fruitlessly she tried to resist the inviting lull of rest that was spreading slowly up her prone form, sleep that had been successfully evading for so long invading her once more as her mind and body screamed for rest from the never ending consciousness, a unrelenting paralysis winding around her torso which held her down and roughly locked her into her dreams, her body's own defences turning against her, condemning her to repeat the horrendous terrors of her recollections as her idling mind began to sink slowly into the murky depths of unconsciousness and the horrors that lay waiting for her, poised and ready to strike, impatient to pounce upon her dreaming mind.

xxx

She was there once more, the entire scene replayed in startlingly graphic detail in front of her disbelieving eyes, her anxious senses magnified beyond all recognition in the chilling clarity of her recollections. She was standing in the Great Hall with sunlight spreading slowly over the white walls, dust particles illuminated in a beam of light as they whisked past lazily on their journey to the ground, the familiar musty smell filling her nostrils as she gazed around her.

The calm before the storm.

Footsteps, ringing louder than audibly possible as the curt step prowled ever closer were drilling into her skull, a deafening ostinato, terrifying in its brisk efficiency, echoing stridently within her aching temples. She could feel the soft radiance of warmth from the body of somebody standing close beside her, her comrade in arms, prepared to fight to the death.

Flinching as she remembered the reassuring grip that had closed momentarily upon her arm the moment that the shield had broken and the tall form of Constance Hardbroom had swept in front of her in a swish of black velvet as she fired a volley of curses towards the enemy, a shower of rainbow sparks bursting forth in slow motion from her bared fingers, effortlessly deflected by the attacker who sent back a crushing spell that pushed Constance to her knees with a hiss of pain, forced to watch on as her protector and confidante buckled beneath the oppressive weight of the spell, the shadowy figure disappearing from her victorious stance upon the stage to seize Mildred roughly by the arm with her deadly talons.

The attacker's breath was sour and rancid as it tickled with a chilling closeness against her cheek, a stomach-churning mixture that only stimulated a feeling of nausea amongst the rising fear within as they leant closer and almost lovingly wrapped a thickly veined arm around her young neck, the muscles tensing in the forearm as they pulling her struggling form tightly to them with an uncomfortable familiarity in their enforced closeness, choking her slowly, her vision fading to black around the edges as she fought for her breath, the room spinning from lack of oxygen as she prayed for Constance to come to her rescue and save her. She knew the sickening chain of events with a frightening familiarity.

First came the supressed scream, choking in her constricted throat as she saw the metallic flash of a knife blade being drawn, an ornate dagger being held to her chest, trailing directly over her frantically thudding heart, the blade so sharp that the faintest of pressure applied from the wrinkled hand in front of her caused the fragile skin to break, tiny droplets of ruby blood escaping from the wound and dribbling down her heaving chest, staining her pale blue shirt as she felt her head begin to spin, abject fear and panic rising up within her, and then those familiar, clipped tones whispered menacingly in her ear, a softly spoken curse which ripped through her body in a blinding attack of pain, and then, the agony of having to listen to her own blood-curdling screams as her greyish eyes rolled back into her head, writhing beneath the torturous grips of the spell, the malevolent laugh of her oppressor echoing within her head, the sole theme that she could hear amongst the nightmarish symphony of screams, the sadistic maestro who was skilfully inflicting such unbearable agony upon her young form that she would have gladly begged for death to end her suffering. Her face was glazed in a cold sweat, her limbs trembling uncontrollably, her breath coming in short, spasmodic gasps as she fought to remain conscious. And then, the moment of clarity amongst the madness, her eyes snapping open to meet with Constance's petrified stare, the devastating plea of, "Kill me!", tearing forth from her throat as she witnessed the torture of her student.

She felt her aching body slam into the floor as her torturer turned her attentions on Constance who was now kneeling upon the dusty wooden floor, a final look exchanged between the two witches as she prepared to meet her fate at the hands of her old adversary. Within her dream, Mildred braced herself, knowing that this was where she met her end in the dream, remembering how she had flown gracefully across the chamber in a blur of magic to take the impact of the spell that had been aimed at the powerful sorceress, preparing to sink once more into the blackness of the deathly moments.

However, something was drastically wrong, the dream was mutating before her very eyes, a conflicting account to those of her haunted memories pushing forwards determinedly into her dreaming psyche, heavy manacles snaking around her prone form with a hiss of soldering metal, pinning her tightly to the floor, the blazing red curse inching forwards sluggishly, the world almost halting, time running in slow motion as the spell moved towards an unprotected Constance who merely bowed her head in preparation, a single tear trickling down her face as she turned her faltering gaze upon Mildred, "I'm sorry…" she choked, an uncharacteristic tremble entering her voice, "So sorry-",

"No! Stop!" Mildred was thrashing against the chains, clawing frantically as she saw what Constance was prepared to do, her nails bloody and torn as she fought to escape from her prison and restore the all-too familiar chain of memory, "Stop it!" her throat was raw from screaming as she was held captive in the vice-like grip of the chains, forced to watch on in terror, the sole spectator of her potions mistress's death.

The figure upon the stage spoke once more, her tones raking harshly through Mildred's consciousness.

"Silence you stupid child! Her time has come, just like she knew it would..." She paused to step from the stage onto the floor, a smile of savage delight present upon her face, "You knew, that you could run for all your worth, Constance Hardbroom, but I will always be there, always ready to strike you down…."

The curse hit Constance squarely in the chest, the brute force of it effortlessly slamming her frail body into the stone wall like a rag doll, a fallen leaf whisked away in the breeze, the busy world faltering and stilling, falling to a deathly hush, the only sound was the soft thud of the lifeless corpse hitting the wooden boards, blood trickling in a thin line down her porcelain cheek, her hazel eyes wide and staring, unseeing as Mildred began to scream….

xxx

"Hold her down; she's going to hurt herself!"

"She won't stop screaming!"

"Quick, get Miss Hardbroom!"

A volley of anxious voices were exploding within her head like a crate of fireworks, little dapples of colour beginning to filter back into her consciousness as she fought to escape from the tight hold of sleep, screams still raining from her traumatised throat, shaking so violently it was almost as if she were having a fit, the final image of her nightmare plastered indelibly across her vision as she lingered in the semi-conscious stages of sleep.

Suddenly, the fog lifted and she slumped back upon her pillows, her brown hair plastered across her face in sweaty tendrils, her chest heaving as she felt her trembling limbs lie still.

"Millie?" a sea of faces loomed over her bearing the concerned features of her friends.

She was about to reply but felt the familiar surge of nausea within her as she suddenly rolled over and vomited onto the stone floor, weak from exertion as she lay awkwardly on her aching side.

"That will do girls!" a familiar, commanding voice broke through the confusion, "I think it would be best if Mildred was left in peace to recover, I shall tend to her now…"

Miss Hardbroom was standing in the doorway, her oriental dressing gown bunched up around her shoulders in an untidy heap, evident that she had given up in her uncoordinated attempts at putting the garment on in her haste to get to her student, her long hair escaping wildly from her previously immaculate ponytail.

She waited for the assembled crowd to disperse before sitting caringly upon the side of the bed and cradling the sobbing girl in her strong arms, stroking her matted hair softly, waiting for the girls breathing to return to normal.

"Millie," she questioned softly, a faint note of urgency present in her voice, "Did you?"

She trailed off as a sob to the affirmative came from Mildred.

"You dreamt that as well? About h-her…" she choked, memories of the nightmare flooding back into her consciousness.

Mildred raised her red-rimmed eyes to stare at Constance.

"Yes…" she replied quietly, her eyes wide and fearful, "A-and y-you w-were…"

She dissolved into another outbreak of tears as Constance cuddled her gently, barely wincing as her own injury reminded her savagely of its presence, a bolt of pain shooting across her ribs, but the sensation was dull, a grim immunity to suffering developing within her as she placed a faint kiss upon Mildred's blazing forehead.

"Ssh, Millie," she comforted, "It's alright, I'm here now..."

Mildred sighed and rested her head upon Miss Hardbroom's bony shoulder, at last feeling slightly safer as she nestled into the warmth of the older witch.

"...And I promise you, Mildred Hubble that we will find out what is going on, and we will fight it until the bitter end!"

She looked down at the young girl who nodded in agreement, finally soothed by the arrival of her most trusted ally.

"Good girl," she whispered as she stroked her hair, holding protectively onto the young witch who was her fellow Fairweatherite.

"Good girl…"

Xxx

Ethel Hallow pouted sullenly as she stared out from her glassless window in the lofty turret, unable to sleep as she watched the orange glow of the dawn seep slowly across the awakening sky. She drummed her bony fingertips impatiently upon the sill, unflinching at the cool breeze that was ruffling her loosened hair, her seething brain desperately trying to concoct a plan to rid her of her troubles as she stared blankly at the surrounding landscape, outwardly calm, but internally her mind was teeming like a boiling cauldron, frothing and spitting madly in her infuriated state, an ice-cold loathing writhing within her like a venomous snake ready to strike at her prey. A smile crept slowly across her features as the seeds of a plan began to germinate and grow at a furious rate within her scheming mind. She broke off from her unseeing gaze at the world beyond the castle and pulled on her woollen dressing gown. She was going to see Drusilla to share the details of the plan that she had in mind.

She did not take kindly to being degraded and insulted, especially in front of that insufferable Mildred Hubble, Miss Cackle's little favourite despite the fact that neither of her parents had a drop of magical blood in their bodies! Lina Nightdew was about to realise the implications of angering a Hallow…


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed this fic so far, all your lovely responses really make my day! Here's a new chapter which follows on from the events of the night in the previous chapter.**

Mildred Hubble slipped silently into the unoccupied chair at the end of the dining table, her features gaunt and drawn, huge grey shadows lurking beneath her grey-blue eyes following yet another sleepless night following the traumatic appearance of the nightmare that had reduced her to a trembling wreck, her traumatised screams waking half the occupants of the castle. Her hair was hanging limply in her two customary plaits, her cheerful yellow sash, deeply at odds with her bleak personal outlook had been doubled around her miniscule waist in a useless bid to convince the voluminous pinafore dress to fit her shrinking frame, withdrawn into the deepest recesses of her shell she was fast becoming a living ghost, a solitary recluse who desperately sought the chance to avoid any social interaction with her friends, merely eating to survive as she toyed absently with the customary lump-filled grey porridge, chasing the setting, unappetising compound with her spoon but not touching a bite of the foul substance, content just to stare into the depths of her breakfast, ignoring the wash of idle chitchat and meaningless babble that filled the Great Hall, allowing it to wash over her like calming waves upon a turbulent shore.

"Millie!" came the faintly exasperated voice from her right, rudely breaking into her reverie, a brisk tap on her arm causing her to look up blearily at the troubled faces around her.

"Are you feeling alright now Millie?" asked a concerned Jadu, her calm voice laden with unease as she surveyed her friend, "You looked in a real state last night, was it a nightmare?"

Mildred nodded weakly, secretly praying that the interrogation would end and that the attention would soon be diverted away from her, her skin prickling slightly at the impact of the hundreds of eyes that seemed to be staring at her, intimidating her from every angle.

"What was the dream about?" questioned Enid, a worried look present on her features, "You were screaming and rolling around, shaking like you were having a fit-we couldn't wake you!"

"I-I" Mildred stammered, breathing in sharply and gripping the edge of the trestle table tightly as a sudden flash of the lifeless corpse from her dream appeared in front of her vision in a shatteringly realistic apparition, her head spinning as the indelible image of the faint trickle of blood running down the lifeless face returned to haunt her once more, a peal demonic laughter ringing chillingly in her ear.

"I-I need to be on my own," she muttered disjointedly, brushing her hair awkwardly away from her face and blushing uncomfortably as she pushed back her chair with a screech, abandoning the set bowl of porridge as she strode towards the door, almost breaking into a panicky run, not looking back at her bewildered friends as she swept past, biting furiously upon her lower lip to stem the tears that were threatening to escape, the contained salty droplets burning like corrosive acid eating into the back of her eyes as she suppressed a sob, avoiding eye contact with any curious onlookers as she hurried past blindly, making for the place of shelter that was her room, where she could cry unnoticed, recuperate from the living hell that her life was descending into.

She kept walking until she had nearly reached her room and stopped, leaning her aching forehead against the cold stone of the castle wall, praying for her troubles to cease.

"Get a grip, Mildred Hubble!" she scolded herself angrily, "Pull yourself together!"

"_Just a moment," _her subconscious pleaded, "_I just need a moment…"_

"Mildred?" a faint whisper came from her right, her shredded nerves causing her to jump involuntarily and wheel around, wild-eyed and staring, searching for the invisible presence that had spoken her name.

"Mildred!" came the voice once more, the quietest of murmurs as the unseen presence desperately tried to attract the young witch's attention.

"Who is it?" she choked, gazing wildly around her, "What do you want?"

"It's me," came the quiet voice again, a head poked out from behind a stone pillar to reveal the freckled features and ginger hair of Drusilla Paddock.

"Drusilla?" inquired Mildred, more than slightly puzzled by the unorthodox method of communication, especially as she had never exchanged more than a handful of pleasant words with Ethel's loyal sidekick, their last major confrontation resulting in an ungainly wrestling match in the local river, but there was something about the worried, almost scared look upon the other girl's face that drew her attention to her.

"Come here," beckoned Drusilla, "I need to talk to you…"

"If this is one of Ethel's elaborate little schemes to get me expelled, you can think again!" snapped Mildred impatiently, beginning to walk away.

"No!" said Drusilla urgently, "Come on, I need to tell you something, but Ethel can't find out that I've told you," her grey eyes grew wide with fear, "She'd kill me…"

Mildred paused, turning to stare at the beseeching expression of the former bully.

"Please... I need to talk to you, Millie" she reiterated desperately, her voice beginning to quaver, the poor girl so ashen-faced it looked as if she were about to faint on the spot.

Mildred sighed and nodded her consent, following Drusilla into her room; casting a final look over her shoulder for Ethel should she be anywhere nearby.

Xxx

Constance stood in front of her mirror, buttoning up the neck of her oriental patterned dress with a deft, practised ease, a quick flick of her fingers causing her ebony hair to pull itself neatly back into her trademark bun, not one hair out of place as she smoothed down her gown, removing the invisible wrinkles from the pristine garment, applying a faint layer of dark lipstick before her appearance reached her stringent levels of approval. Her morning routine had become an unbreakable habit that had been well-drilled into her teenage mind, applying the pinpoint precision and rigid standards of her formidable headmistress to every act that she did. Nothing else would do.

Finally rid of the eternal shadow of Hecketty Broomhead that had blighted her along every faltering step of her wretched existence, she knew that she should feel nothing but ecstatic relief and joy, but the oppressive, gloomy silhouette of the deceased woman had stubbornly refused to relinquish its strangle-hold upon her, clinging on grimly in the world of her dreams, haunting memories resurfacing to taunt her every step of the way along the path to recovery. She sighed at the mere memory of the dream that had invaded not only her mind but Mildred's as well, the sight of the trembling, terrified young witch staring up at her with eyes as wide as saucers, pleading for her love and protection, clinging tightly to her slender form as sobs wracked violently through her traumatised body. At first she had felt nothing but raw guilt tugging away at her, an unnerving helpless spreading through her at the emotional torment that her young pupil had experienced since becoming closer to her, the root of all her problems stemming directly from their blossoming friendship.

"Constance Hardbroom," she reprimanded herself sharply, addressing the tall figure in the mirror, speaking aloud for the first time that morning, breaking the deafening silence that hung uneasily in her draughty chamber, "You are in no way to blame for what has happened," she paused uncertainly, before whispering quietly, the unbearable torment of suppressed feelings and guilt somehow lessened by releasing them from the raging silence of the captivity of her mind, "You and Mildred have to stand together, fight whatever it is that is threatening to tear us apart, at any cost…"

She cleared her throat, the usual note of calm confidence returning to her stature as she fastened the familiar key-chain around her slender waist, the metallic clink of metal upon metal offering a comforting familiarity, a reminder of her position of responsibility and power as she turned upon her heel and strode towards the door.

She was still not daring to materialise in her usual fashion following the violent attack that she had sustained previously, a stabbing pain carving across her damaged ribs at the mere thought of the terrifying ordeal.

"And yet," she muttered to herself as her hand closed upon the doorknob, there was something vaguely familiar about the snarling presence that had invaded her dreams night upon night, the unseen creature that had chased her in a breathless pursuit, preying upon her weakening form as she frantically tried to escape. She gulped, trying to restore calm to her disintegrating composure, painting in the cracks in the façade. Despite her worst fears, she had to know, she had to grit her teeth and take the leap of faith into the perilous depths of discovery.

She knew what she had to do.

Xxx

Despite her stomach growling hungrily, her limbs trembling slightly from the lack of food, Mildred Hubble was sprinting urgently through the ancient corridors, bootlaces flapping wildly as she rounded the corner, gasping in air as she hurtled at breakneck speed towards the Spells classroom. She burst through the door without bothering waste time on something as trivial as knocking, causing Lina Nightdew to jump violently, dropping a teetering pile of text-books that she had been distributing amongst the desks in readiness for the first class with a deafening crash.

"Mildred Hubble, what on earth-" She was swiftly cut off by Mildred.

"Miss, the books, have you marked the books for the third year yet?" she gasped, bending double with her hands upon her aching sides.

"No, no I haven't," frowned a bemused Lina, planting her hands upon her small hips as she stared at the flustered young witch, "Mildred, what is this all about? I've got to teach a First Year spells class in fifteen minutes! "she prompted gently.

Mildred ignored her mild protests as she swept past towards the pile of purple exercise books that were stacked neatly in the designated box at the front of the classroom, rummaging through the stack until she found the relevant book, picking it up gingerly between her finger and thumb, holding it away from her like an unexploded bomb as she dropped it carefully into the wastepaper basket and turned around to reply to Lina.

"I'm sorry Miss," she panted, her face flushed wildly from her previous exertions, "But, t-there was s-something in that book t-that was intended to c-cause you harm…"

Lina's sapphire eyes flashed threateningly as she glared at the seemingly innocent book that was being offered towards her, squinting as she attempted to read the name inscribed upon the book in the familiar scrawled writing.

"Is this some sort of a joke, Mildred?" she enquired coldly, all of her usual friendliness deserting her as she stared at the name upon the book, "You would throw your own book in the waste-paper basket?", she made to pluck the book from the bin but Mildred pulled it away from her, her face anxious as she tried to explain the bizarre set of circumstances.

"N-no, Miss..." she stammered, "That isn't my book, somebody has made a replica, mine's in my bag…" She broke off and pulled the duplicate item out of her satchel and placed it upon a nearby desk.

"Miss Nightdew," she began seriously, her eyes imploring the young woman to believe her tale of events, "I have found out that somebody had written in cursed ink in the replica book, a Poison Pen Curse that was designed to be inflicted upon you…."

Lina's eyes widened. The Poison Pen Curse had gained notoriety over the years as one of the most vicious acts of revenge that a witch could gain upon an enemy; a recent outbreak at the Witches Guild had cost several of the targeted members their magic. The spell worked like a form of gangrene, the slightest contact with the toxic ink causing the venomous substance to be drawn through the pores of the skin, seeping through the fragile membranes and causing the immediate death of the flesh in the casting fingers of a witch, the skin rotting away beneath the rapid impact of the curse, leaving nothing but a blackened stump, unable to channel magic, the witch was effectively disabled until an antidote could be brewed, a complex potion that would have to be administered within an hour of infection, or the patient could expect the complete loss of magic from their system.

"Who on earth…" she growled, shaking with anger as she stared at the apparently harmless book in disbelief, "would want to, dare to assault a member of staff in such a way," her expression clouded still further, "and attribute the blame to you, Mildred?"

They spoke as one as their eyes met, understanding finally dawning.

"Ethel Hallow…"

"Drusilla told me…" whispered Mildred, still unable to comprehend that Lina had accepted her word willingly, having been prepared to stand her ground upon the matter to avoid being implicated as the perpetrator of the act.

Lina didn't answer, her eyes ablaze as she seized the edge of the book, a powerful wave of magic bursting forth from her bared fingers of her dominant hand, a blue sheen glistening around the outline of the infected item.

"Oh yes," she muttered darkly beneath her breath, "It's enchanted alright, a very nasty piece of magic lurking within those pages…"

Without further ado, she drew back her hand and sent a violent swipe of magic towards the book causing it to erupt into flames and fall into the waste-paper basket.

"That girl…" she muttered savagely beneath her breath, her hand trembling violently as she lowered herself shakily into a nearby chair, "Has not heard the last of this…"

"She's always picked on me, ever since the first day of term when we met in the woods," admitted Mildred a small smile dawning on her face as she remembered the undignified crash onto the forest floor by the snooty pureblood witch, the pout lingering beneath her pointed nose as she sneered at Mildred from her perfectly floating broomstick. Enemies from day one. "I'm not surprised she tried to make me the villain of the piece…"

"I cannot stand corruption, Mildred…" breathed Lina, her chest heaving with emotion, her hand curling into a tight fist, "The thought that Ethel can escape from the consequences of her actions simply by the fact that her father is the Chair of the Board of Governors, it sickens me, it really does…"

"That's just what Ethel does," reflected Mildred sadly, "I think that placing her in detention was the final straw for her, made her determined to gain revenge…"

"It's important to stand up for what is right, Mildred…" said Lina, staring wistfully into the flickering flames of the burning exercise book.

"Never, ever let dishonesty mask the path of decency and truth, never be afraid to fight for what you believe in, never be scared to stand up and make your voice heard," she looked up directly at the listening girl, "Roar like a lion if you have the cause to, make sure that they hear you…" she trailed off, absent-mindedly twisting her ring around her slender middle finger, smiling softly at the dancing rainbow flecks buried within the translucent, milky stone set within the delicate gold band.

Mildred stared interestedly at the jewel, fascinated by the unique play of light amongst the facets of the stone. Lina noticed her looking.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" she commented upon seeing Mildred's eyes fall upon the ring, "It's an opal," she continued, a slight furrow appearing in her brow as she met with an enquiring look from the young witch, "A birthday gift from last year… exactly 12 months ago, to be precise…" she sighed softly as she stared into the depths of the stone.

"It's your birthday today?" questioned a surprised Mildred, intrigued by the general lack of festivities.

"Yes…" came the quiet reply, "Yes it's m-my…" she trailed off and looked away abruptly with the faintest sparkle of a traitorous tear forming in her blue eyes, banished immediately by an angry swipe of her hand.

"Still," she said with a brave attempt at carefree humour as she gestured at the smoking ruins of the poison-pen book; buried hurt still radiating within her voice, the corners of her smile twitching with the effort of sustaining the cheerful gesture, "I don't think that was the best present I could have hoped to receive, today of all days…"

An awkward silence hung in the air as Mildred stared at her feet, slightly ashamed at causing such an unexpected, apparently unprovoked reaction in her teacher.

"I should go-" she gestured awkwardly towards the door, shuffling uncomfortably, "I've got potions in a couple of minutes..."

Lina nodded as she climbed wearily to her feet, the mask of composure firmly back in place as she straightened her robes.

"I can't thank you enough, Millie," she smiled faintly, "'You were certainly very brave in coming to find me and warn me," she paused as Mildred began to make her way out of the classroom,

"And Mildred?" she called after the disappearing figure, placing a kind hand upon the girls frail arm,

"Don't be afraid to come and talk to me if you need a sympathetic ear, will you? I'm here, anytime..."

She cast a worried look at the young witch as she turned away, biting her lip thoughtfully as she watched her safely around the corner, frowning slightly as a nagging thought plaguing her teeming mind. She settled down once more behind her desk, opening her notes for the first year's lesson, awaiting the tentative knock upon the door that would denote the arrival of her class.

She sighed thoughtfully, thinking of the troubled young witch, the haunted expression glazed upon her memory as she puffified the smouldering ruins of the Poison Pen book.

"Mildred Hubble…" she pondered absently, sighing as she drummed her fingertips upon the wooden desk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Note: Well, hello again! Apologies once again for any delay in updating, but life is getting incredibly hectic at the moment! Huge thanks to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter, your comments really do make my day! Just to warn you, this chapter is a little darker than some of the others, and does make use of flashback in the middle. **

It was a nervous Constance Hardbroom that stood before her mirror, the golden light of the fading, dusky sun illuminating the turret chamber with its warm glow, highlighting the faint creases of worry which were beginning to become a permanent fixture across her forehead. She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly through her nose, a calming action that was doing little to steady her jaded nerves.

"It has to be done…" she whispered, the note of indecision evident in her usually firm tones as she stared back at her reflection, fearing the possible realisation of the doubt that had festered within her brooding mind for the past fortnight, the grey shadows of sleeplessness haunting her once more, her face pale and gaunt as she battled the illness that was clinging grimly onto existence, pain still rippling through her ribs whenever she moved, a level of agony that would have reduced many to a permanent state of tears, but Constance was living upon raw determination alone, her unbroken spirit carrying her weakened body upon the driving back of its incessant strength, refusing to acknowledge her condition as more than a mere inconvenience despite Amelia's frantic pleas for her to remain bed-ridden for another week at least, declining all suggestions of a diminution in duties with her customary polite dismissal.

"I have to know…"

The unfamiliar look of fear was glazed within her hazel eyes as she tried to justify her actions, her teeming mind analysing every consequence of the risk-laden act that she was about to perform.

"For me… for Mildred…. I need to know what it is…." She added firmly; resolve returning to her as she straightened her shoulders, folding her arms across her bony chest and closing her eyes in concentration as she breathed in deeply and focused, beginning to feel the peculiar splitting sensation of dissociation spreading through her willowy form, a feeling akin to icy water droplets tracing slowly along every membrane in her torso, a comfortable numbness developing within as each molecule in her body tore apart from its neighbour, like glass being reduced to shattered shards the growing cracks were spreading slowly across her porcelain skin as she intensified the magical forces that were flowing within her, attempting the partial materialisation technique that she had spent years perfecting, lingering in a temporary journey into the world of invisibility, neither existing nor dead, floating in the ether of the shapeless world in between.

It was there, watching impatiently from its vantage point, its tolerance wearing thin as the tantalising form of the prey swam into view once more. A soft growl escaped from between the dark lips as it tasted the unmistakable scent upon the wind, hackles rising upon the back of the furry neck as a clawed hoof swept across the ground, gorging a deep ridge within the rocky terrain, preparing to charge once more.

It was coming.

Constance felt the world shake beneath the tremor of the beast as she turned to face her pursuer, readying herself to rematerialise and escape to the safety of her solitary chamber. She raised her eyes, squinting into the bright white light of reality, readying herself to flee upon sighting the beast, her heart thudding uncontrollably within her chest as she heard the tell-tale snarl, a choking cloud of acrid dust rising as the hammering hoof beats grew ever closer, finally revealing the vast figure of the nightmarish creature, snorting smoke from flared crimson nostrils in a noxious, steaming cloud, almond-shaped eyes red and bloodshot, blazing with anger and authority set into the side of its enormous head as it sped ever closer, long curled horns like those of a ram protruded from the forehead of the mighty creature which was covered in matted, thick black fur that fully covered a muscular body in a luxurious coat. Razor-sharp claws were attached to the hooves upon all four limbs, bared and ready to take down the sighted prey, each claw able to inflict the devastating injuries of a guillotine blade with the ruthless, co-ordinated efficiency of a well-sharpened meat-cleaver. The proud jaw was set firmly, lips flared to reveal row upon row of devastatingly sharp, interlocking, lethal fangs, each about two foot in length, and a pointed tail was carried proudly behind it, also littered with the deadly spines. Another deafening roar emitted from its mouth as it grew ever closer, gaining speed, galloping so fast that its hooves barely touched the ground, born along with the speed of a lightning bolt, it had nearly reached the transfixed woman before she could even comprehend its presence. Frantically, she tried to dematerialise, her mind reeling at the feared sight, her worst fears and suspicions confirmed as the overwhelming realisation of her own theories dawned within her mind.

Constance sank to her knees upon the stony floor of her private chamber, her frail legs buckling as she flickered into vision once more, panting, drawing in precious air with ragged, hoarse gasps, her slender hand rising to massage her swan-like neck as she inhaled sharply, suddenly finding herself biting back a scream of pain, her hazel eyes rolling wildly back into her head as the numerous old wounds which littered her torso generously slowly began to reopen, searing gashes fading into existence once more upon her pale skin, ruby blood dripping slowly from the silvery spider webs of cuts and scars like tears flowing down her skin, an eerie cobalt glow highlighting her stricken form as the blue sparks of magic danced manically across her bleeding body, attempting in vain to cope with the vast task of healing the mutilated, punctured skin with a faint hiss of sealing flesh. However, she could still feel the venomous fangs sinking relentlessly into her side as she succeeded momentarily in struggling frantically to wrench herself free from the deadly grip of the invisible adversary whose hot breath was causing terrified goosebumps to rise upon her alabaster skin, shivering in a mixture of adrenaline and pure terror as she felt her body surrender momentarily to the ceaseless torture, the world threatening to fade to black as she lay at the feet of the pursuing monster, a low, menacing growl rumbling like thunder from the throat of the mighty beast as it tasted the rich, metallic palate of the blood of its long-desired prey, the sweet smell of flesh filling its flared nostrils, salivating heavily at the exquisite aroma as it prepared to deliver the fatal blow which would disable the weakened witch. She summoned the remaining reserves of magic, her last hope at protection, but Constance was essentially powerless to defend herself, trapped in a plunging free-fall into the icy abyss of memories and dreams, rapidly plummeting towards the ground, blinded by the intense agony as she sank slowly into all too familiar dim, murky depths of unconsciousness as she fought for her very existence, slumped upon the unforgiving flagstones.

Xxx

She was there once more, a dizzying dimension of reality forming around her as she stood as the single spectator within the long gallery of the Witch Training College, the high arched ceilings offering a ringing acoustic, the impressive grandeur of the surroundings masking the underlying brutalities to the unassuming eye, exploring the indelibly preserved memories of the chamber of horrors once more. Her senses where under full assault from the bewildering perceptions into her surroundings, even the familiar musty smell of the ancient buildings worming its way into her consciousness as she gazed in dread around her, everything perfect to the most minute of details, right down to the engraved honours boards of high achievers and past witches of notable distinction which littered the walls, the everlasting legacy of the famed alumni of the renowned institute of education.

A sudden movement from the other end of the might space caught her eye, causing her to flinch momentarily, knowing that she was an unwanted intruder within the hallowed walls. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the robed figure of a little child approaching the feared entrance to the headmistress's quarters, her young legs quaking slightly beneath her, knocking tentatively upon the huge door which towered over her imposingly, casting a final look over her shoulder as if to seek reassurance from the invisible eyes that were watching her from afar.

"Don't…" she pleaded silently with the little child, her voice unheard, her blood running cold, a grim personal insight leading her to know full well what lay ahead, "Please, please don't… just walk away…. run…."

"Enter!" came the brisk reply and young witch pushed the heavy door open, her frail arms trembling slightly beneath the effort required to open the hefty mahogany framed door.

Again the icy tones rang out, not a shred of compassion or welcome wasted upon the precise instructions, a study in vocal efficiency. A curt finger was extended directly towards the chair in front of the desk.

"Sit!"

She obeyed, walking carefully across the dark oak floorboards, her small buckled shoes marking a precise tempo as she paused before the impressive desk, curtseying politely and seating herself gingerly upon the designated chair, her anxiety momentarily stilled by the lack of criticism. However, her carefully collected composure was not to last.

"Wrong!" the familiar cane, a vicious, bone-white implement came swishing through the air at a tremendous velocity, its ominous presence announced with the customary tell-tale whistle as it shot through the air, crashing down starkly upon the edge of the desk, "I will not tolerate slouching of any kind! It is sloppy, uncouth, undisciplined! The product of a disordered, unruly mind!"

She made to apologise, trembling in her seat, tears building up behind her eyes, still not used to her bleak new regime, "I-I'm sorry, M-mistress Bro-"

"Do not interrupt!" came the furious retort, a blinding flash of red light hurtling towards her, striking her squarely in the jaw as her tongue fused to the palate at the top of her mouth, choking back the stammered act of contrition.

"You will learn to behave in an acceptable manner…" hissed the feared headmistress, rising from her winged chair with red velvet cushioning, stalking closer to her captive student, leaning over her trembling shoulder in a quasi-concerned stance, her voice soft and menacing, her sour breath tickling the back of the trembling girl's neck, "Or learn to tolerate the consequences carried by indulging in such wilful and disobedient behaviour…"

She gulped at the audible creak of wood from the malicious cane being flexed between the veined and knotted hands of the headmistress resonated like a death-knell behind her, a daunting regularity in the faint groans from the protesting rattan material adding a menacing accompaniment to the hissed threats that were whispered gently into her ear. She automatically flinched away from the threats but was immediately punished for her lack of obedience, like a soldier failing to stand to attention whilst on parade, she felt two bony hands descend upon her shoulders, seizing her tightly, talon-like nails digging into her young flesh as she was yanked back into the correct position, her spine ram-rod straight once more.

"That's better…" the voice murmured once more, mocking in its lightness, "That's how one should behave…"

Suddenly the older woman broke away, a thoughtful smile playing around her lips in an adopted warmth that failed to reach her ice-cold eyes, toying with the young witch in front of her.

"That will be all… please return to your class immediately," she paced behind the girl, lifting the enchantment as she climbed shakily to her feet, a puzzled look upon her face.

"B-but, Mistress Broomhead, y-you sent for m-me?" she stammered quietly, biting on her lip in a bid to prevent it from trembling as she looked up fearfully at the imposing figure who was smiling sweetly, a disconcertingly friendly image, a grinning viper poised and ready to strike.

"That will be all…" A firm digit pointed towards the doorway, "Please return to your class…"

The young witch turned warily and paced towards the door, casting a suspicious glance over her shoulder at the mysterious display of consideration and friendliness.

"Go on…" the sugar-coated voice prompted gently.

She sighed heavily, turning her back and walking away with the perfect deportment that she had been instructed to portray, tense with anxiety, filled with dread and suspicion as she reached for the doorknob, relaxing as she was allowed to leave the feared chamber.

Moments later a scream rang out from the secluded office as the young girl fell to the floor, writhing in agony, tears streaming from her eyes as she clutched her chest, blinded by the pain that was tearing through her, sobbing uncontrollably at the feet of the tyrannical woman who knelt down rapidly despite her increasing years and seized her by the scruff of the neck, forcing her gaze to meet with the icy look of disdain that was being cast in her direction.

"Apologise, you ill-mannered little brat!" came the barked command as the feared headmistress shouted directly into her ear, a heeled leather boot kicking her in the stomach, a wrinkled hand swiftly cuffing her around the head as the senior witch forcibly dragged the bawling child to her feet.

"I-I…" the girl choked before her throat sealed and closed, leaving her fighting for air to remain alive, let alone finishing her sentence. Choking, a bright red flush spreading across her pale cheeks, her breath rasping hoarsely in her throat as she began to turn puce, clutching her hands tightly to her throat, struggling violently against the unseen force that had closed around her throat like a vice, crushing the trachea, her eyes pleading for the enchantment to be lifted by the sadistic witch. Stars began to swim in front of her vision as she began to suffocate, a dull ringing echoing within her ears as a wave of nausea swept through her abruptly, her weakening limbs shaking uncontrollably, the black walls of her vision beginning to close in upon her terrified body.

"Apologise…" came the low growl, her hearing the only sense that was still being registered by her oxygen-deprived brain.

Suddenly, the obstruction cleared and she took in a huge gulp of air like a diver breaking the surface of the water, her asphyxiated muscles screaming for oxygen, drinking in vital air as she massaged her aching throat.

"Well?" came the icy enquiry, emotionless and calm.

"I-I'm-" her words caught in her throat, her diaphragm going into spasm with the wave of emotion that swept through her despairing mind.

"Don't stammer, girl!" the barked words were accompanied by a swift smack to her cold, sweaty cheek which smarted harshly, the new injury throbbing against her soft skin like a spiteful nettle-sting.

She gulped back tears, raising her eyes to the woman who held the power of life and death over her, biting back the sobs that threatened to erupt from her, controlling her words carefully.

"I'm sorry, Mistress Broomhead…" she whispered, bowing her head and staring at the splintering floorboards, anxious to prevent the tears from sliding down her cheeks beneath the intimidating stare of the formidable woman.

"I don't think "sorry" is quite repentance enough, is it?" spat the sadistic woman, her heavy black shadow hanging directly over the trembling girl who knelt at her feet, growing in intensity as she drew ever closer, little flecks of saliva jumping eagerly from her mouth as she articulated the doomed sentence in her familiar clipped tones, her bony hands clutching authoritatively at the front of her flowing black robes as she prepared to pronounce sentence upon the wretched child. The sole judge, juror and executioner within her beloved college.

"Not enough at all…"

Constance glided along the empty corridor unseen, the ghostly observer of times gone by as she crept through the surroundings of the lucid memory, her weightless footsteps falling silently upon the ancient floor, a single tear running slowly down her pale cheek, unchecked in its icy path as she approached the exterior of the infamous study, the twisting feeling of nerves clenching within her fluttering stomach at the mere memory of her many fated visits to the cursed chamber.

Approaching footsteps caused her to dart behind the nearest column, sheltering within the masking shadows and shuddering with horror at the unnerving arrival of the studious pupils, each clad in their identical black robes, walking past the office continued in their neat orderly lines, grey electronic tags blinking dully upon their wrists, falling into step in a perfect unison, moving along steadily at the predicated tempo by the army of perpetually ticking clocks-the constant motion of the pendulum mechanisms the only sound within the silent hallways- as the rhythmic footfall continued, the expressionless faces of the scholars unflinching and perfectly blank to the auditory impact of the torturous screams for help that were emitting from behind the mahogany door, pitiful whimpers of agony ringing disregarded, pleas for mercy falling upon the deaf ears of the shuffling mass of brain-numbed automatons, each fully desensitised to the orchestrated nightmares which accompanied day to day life at the WTC having experienced the shocking brutalities first hand.

Remaining silent, faceless and nameless was the favoured tactic to employ should you try to hide from the specific attentions of the tyrannical dictator who lurked within the sacred hunting ground of the wood-panelled room. All those who arrived with the spark of life, the dazzling vitality of youth at the promise of attaining a place at one of the foremost educational establishments in the country were soon ground down to crushed and broken shells of their formers selves, their dying exuberance snuffed out in the blink of an eye between the firmly pinched fingers of the dictator, reduced to smoking ruins beneath her monstrous barrage, the blemished flaws in her continual strive for magical perfection, the possession of a Fairweatherite, each worthless student deprived of their individuality and pride, soon sinking beneath the murky depths of calm, uniform control, submitting to the crushing leadership, the slightest resistance to the brutal regime seen only as futile and pointless at the best and borderline suicidal at the worst. There was no escape, there never had been.

She continued to stare wistfully after the disappearing collection of students, before another tearing screech rang out from the office.

"Help me! Somebody, please!" the child's shrill voice recovered momentarily before another piercing shriek emitted from behind the closed door, the high-pitched sound of a mere child pleading for rescue from her fate was enough to bring Constance to her senses, a raw familiarity to the frantic screams of the little girl tearing away at her heart as she ran up to the door, hammering on the unyielding mahogany with her fists, rattling the brass handle as she fought to reach the helpless victim, the loud, mocking demonic laughter echoing all around her in an all-encompassing stereo as she began to kick at the solid mass, each scream only serving to fuel her frantic bids to gain entry to the room, blinding jets of magic flowing uselessly from her fingers- but with the room being impervious to enchantments, there was no contest.

"Let me in!" she gasped, her breath coming in short, panicky gasps, prickling tears building up in her blazing eyes as she was forced to listen to the never-ending floods of tears, "Let me in, please, I'm coming for you, I'm coming…" she choked, abandoning all control as she too began to scream in desperation at the knowledge that she too was powerless to prevent the vicious cycle of events from starting yet again, powerless to intervene and prevent the distressing sights that were unfolding within the sealed chamber, the marked déjà vu of the entire scene overwhelming her as she mirrored scream for scream, cry for cry, gasp for gasp, her bloodied knuckles raining a volley of pathetic blows upon the unyielding barrier, sobbing hysterically in the knowledge that she was as powerless as ever, the familiar order of events establishing themselves once more as she sank exhaustedly to the floor, a spent force, too weak to offer any protection from the determined reaches of the torturer that stood triumphantly upon the other side of the impenetrable wall, rejoicing gleefully in her latest victory.

Xxx

The door to the abandoned chamber creaked open slowly to reveal the solitary figure of a cloaked witch surveying the darkened room; a single orange candle-flame was held aloft, flickering in the freezing draught but illuminating the immobile body lying upon the grey flagstones. Matted ebony hair spread across the face of the elegant woman in a wild mane, her eyes were firmly closed and a dark trickle was oozing slowly from the corner of her mouth, tracing in a stark line down her porcelain chin.

**I do apologise for leaving it on a cliff-hanger, next chapter should be up soon and will carry on from this point!**


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